


In Which Isaac Lahey Finally Gets Some Fucking Therapy

by penink



Series: In Which Isaac Lahey Finally Gets Some Fucking Therapy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Oh yeah and during pt 2, Other, Plothole Fill, Sort Of, allison is a treasure who didn't deserve it, bromance out the wazzoo, derek is great but needs to talk it out with his kids, isaac finally confronts his past, isaac lahey gets therapy, mama mccall has many kids, maybe scisaac later, scott just wants to help his brooding housemate, stiles and isaac get over their feud, takes place during season 3 part one and between season 3 part one and two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 101,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penink/pseuds/penink
Summary: Isaac Lahey never got what he deserved, a closeness to his friends, a proper ending, and most importantly, some fucking therapy.  This fic will overlap heavily with season three part one with more drastic divergence between part 1 and 2 of season 3.    It will cover the home life he had with the McCalls, the smaller moments he had with his friends, as well as how his trauma effected him.  And it'll have a series of adventures and drama that I'm adding in between part 1 and 2.The fic starts after the episode "Unleashed" but before "Frayed".





	1. Chapter 1

“Would you mind telling me why you’re here, Isaac?” Doctor Gallagher crossed her legs and stared at the young werewolf across from her. He didn’t meet her eyes, merely glanced around the room with the same disinterested and cool expression he seemed to take on most of the time. “Isaac?”

“Ms. McCall wanted me to go. Both of them did, her and Scott,” Isaac said, he slouched back in the faded beige seat in the corner of her office. He glanced to the open door. She had wanted to close it at first, confidentiality and all that. He had refused.

“That doesn’t explain why you chose to come here,” The doctor said. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her notebook kept on the desk for the beginning of his first session.

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t be right for me not to go. They took me in, I couldn’t just say no,” he shrugged, long legs stretched out over the floors covered in thin, ugly carpet.

“Alright, fair enough,” she said. “Then why did they want you to come here?”

“I’ve been keeping them up. For a few nights a week, I keep on waking them up,” a flicker of guilt seems to come out under Isaac’s moody facade.

“How have you kept them up?” She asked. Isaac didn’t respond. “Isaac?”

“I’m sure you already know what’s been happening. I doubt Ms. McCall would’ve signed me up for this without telling you,” Isaac’s tone was clipped. Defensive.

“Actually no. We both agreed it should be up to you to share however little or however much you want. All she told me was that you’re a good kid who needs this,” Dr. Gallagher was concise. Genuine. Although she was bending the truth ever so slightly, but not about what Ms. McCall had or hadn’t told her. Dr. Gallagher’s specialty was trauma victims. Victims of domestic violence. All she knew was what type of reason Isaac had for coming here. Her words seemed to make Isaac waver, maybe even touch him in some way.

“I… I don’t sleep well,” he began, unable to stop his tone from sounding at least a bit gruff. “And sometimes when I wake up…” Isaac sighed, despising the fact that there were no sarcastic retorts to worm his way out of this conversation. “I end up screaming. It wakes them up. That’s why they sent me here.”

“So you don’t think it was because they were concerned? Do you think it was because they didn’t want you keeping them up?” She kept her voice critical rather than encouraging at this moment. She didn’t want to confirm his anxieties, but she didn’t want to neglect them either.

“I don’t know,” Isaac said. Well he did know, he also knew that if he said yes he would come across as a self-pitying bastard and if he said no he’d come off as careless. Or at least that’s what he thought would happen.

“I don’t know about Scott, but Ms. McCall seemed mostly worried about if you were okay, not about her sleep schedule,” she said.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t change that it bothers them,” Isaac scoffed.

“Maybe it bothers them because of their concern, not because it inconveniences them.” They were getting off topic, but it didn’t seem right to leave negativity in the air.

“Is there a point to all of this?” Isaac’s immediate defense of shortness was quite right in this moment.

“Maybe we should move on to something more cohesive. Would you be willing to answer a few questions for me?” Dr Gallagher said.

“Depends on the questions,” Isaac said. She didn’t think he’d looked her in the eyes more than once since walking in here.

“You can refuse to answer some of them, but doing so will make it harder for me to help you,” she finally picked up her notes. “Have you ever seen a counselor before?”

Isaac scoffed, “no. Not even the one at school.”

“What do you think the problem is?”

“Should I make a list?”

“Anything that comes to your head.”

“I can’t sleep, or when I do it’s… bad.”

“How does the problem make you feel?”

“Aren’t you supposed to figure that out?”

“No, I’m supposed to help you with your feelings.”

“Like I said. Bad. I freak out sometimes. Usually at night.”

“What makes the problem better, in your experience?”

“Again, isn’t that supposed to be your job?”

“Isaac, what do you do when you wake up or feel panicked?”

“Nothing. Usually it’s Scott and Melissa who try and calm me down. Or whoever gets stuck with me on a bad night.”

“If you could wave a magic wand, what positive changes would you make in your life?”

Isaac almost laughed at this one. “That already happened. It wasn’t a magic wand though, it was a bite and a pretty brutal murder instead.”

“Well obviously this… bite didn’t change enough in your life. So what would it be?”

“I don’t know,” Isaac seemed to actually think about the question. “I honestly don’t know. I just want to forget some stuff, but not really because I don’t know what I’d be without it.” Isaac seemed to shake out of his vulnerability and his eyes became guarded and uninterested once more.

“How would you describe your mood? Overall?”

“Right now? Bored. In general? Also bored.”

“I don’t quite believe that, Isaac, but I’ll put it down anyways for now.”

“What do you expect from the counselling process?”

“For the McCalls to get off my back.”

“Would you be comfortable discussing specific memories within the next few sessions or would you prefer to ease into things on a more conceptual level? In this case by conceptual I mean what you feel causes your panic outside of actual events,” she said.

“Honestly, no. But I’m not here to waste someone else’s money, so I guess I have to give it a shot,” Isaac said.

“What do you think the cause of this problem is?”

“Probably has something to do with my dad beating the hell out of me and locking me in a freezer every other night,” Isaac said with far too much casualty in his voice. Dr. Gallagher paused. Her pen froze over the page as she processed what the teen had said. She really had had no idea. This was going to be a tough one.

“I want you to know that everything said in this room is between us unless I am concerned you intend to harm yourself or others,” Dr. Gallagher said slowly. Isaac nodded. “You can also discuss everything with me, including the supernatural business.” Isaac seemed to start at this, he sat up in his chair and stared at her. “Ms. McCall found me through Dr. Deaton. He recommended me because you would be able to discuss everything with me openly. Someone I knew was bitten. So I understand the world you live in enough to be of some help.” She had to stay impersonal, so she did not bring up the fact that her son had not survived the turning.

“So, what? You’re a supernatural psychiatrist?” Isaac said sarcastically.

“Not usually. Mostly I deal with abuse victims,” she said.

“Lucky me.”

“What resources can you think of that are available to you that may help you calm down? Friends? Family? Your… pack, I suppose?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah. Derek would be a real help with all this emotional bullshit,” Isaac scoffed.

“Who’s Derek?” She asked.

“The alpha,” god it felt weird talking about this stuff with some random woman. “He doesn’t really want anything to do with me right now.”

“That’s strange, I thought it was his job to help you,” she said. “What about the rest of the pack?”

“Well, Erica is dead and Boyd isn’t really available because he usually stays at his parents house. I used to see him sometimes at Derek’s, but I don’t really spend much time there anymore myself,” Isaac said bitterly.

“Because you’re staying with the McCalls?”

“Yeah, because Derek kicked me out,” Isaac said.

“Well, what about Scott? Isn’t he a werewolf too? Part of your pack?”

“Not really. I don’t know what Scott is right now,” Isaac shrugged.

“A friend, maybe?”

“I don’t want to bother them with my bullshit. They’ve got enough going on right now. All of them,” Isaac said.

“Before now, though, when Ms. McCall and Scott wake up, what do they do to help you?”

“Scott holds me down if I turn. Both of them try and talk me out of it, but it usually doesn’t work. Then they just wait it out for a while,” Isaac’s moodiness seems more genuine in that moment.

“Ms. McCall said they both have experience with panic attacks, from a family friend of theirs. She would like to ideally get to the point where you’re aware enough to try breathing exercises to calm down. I think we may be able to get to that point in time. Until then, I want you to stop rejecting the resources available to you. The McCalls want to help. You have friends and I’m sure your pack wants to help you as well. If you need help, please talk to Scott or Ms. McCall. Anyone, really. Even if you aren’t ready to process things with me, try doing so with your loved ones,” she said almost instantly. It made her seem more like a doctor prescribing someone than the useless guidance counselor Isaac had had in mind before coming here. Isaac didn’t say anything.

“It seems to me like you don’t think you can talk to anyone, Isaac. I understand why trusting people may be hard for you, I understand why you’ve set up these walls with your emotions, but if you want to be able to process any of this, you’re going to need to open up,” she said. Isaac still didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her. “I’ll see you next week, Isaac. Let me walk you out,” she would just have to give it some time, she was just glad he had said anything besides snarky remarks, however little he had shared.  
They entered the waiting room where Melissa and Scott stood up immediately. “How’d it go?” Melissa asked, still in her work scrubs.

“You guys shouldn’t of waited for me, I could’ve gotten home alone,” Isaac said.

“You don’t have a car,” Scott pointed out.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday at four, it was nice to meet you Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher said before returning to her office.

“You really didn’t have to wait here, it was enough that you’re paying for this…” Isaac scuffed his shoes on the floor and fidgeted embarrassedly.

“It was just an hour. We didn’t have anything else to do, did we Scott?” Melissa pulled her car keys out of her pocket and headed towards the lot.

“How’d it go, man?” Scott asked again.

“Scott, he doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to,” Melissa chastised her son.

“Fine. I think. I just had to answer a bunch of questions,” Isaac shrugged. He slouched in the back seat of the car as they headed home.

“Well, I’m really glad you went, Isaac. We’re here to support you,” Melissa said firmly in that motherly certainty she always seemed to have.

“Uh, Stiles wants to hang out. I think to study, is that okay?” Scott asked.

“To study? Not planning to stop the evil forces of Beacon Hills?” Melissa questioned.

“No, mom. Despite the town falling apart I still want to graduate,” he smiled.

Of course, Scott was not going to study with Stiles. He was going to meet Derek and the others at his loft, because Derek had a plan. Isaac didn’t know this, but he wasn’t an idiot. Something was up with Scott. Next time he tried to run out, he wouldn’t be going alone.

That night when Scott returned from “studying” some time past eleven Isaac was getting ready for bed. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, brushing his teeth and staring at Scott who was trying to sneak into his room. Scott froze and gave Isaac a sheepish smile. Isaac leaned into the bathroom and spat.

“How was studying, Scott?” Isaac said.

“Good. Boring, but you know me and Stiles, we didn’t really get anything done,” Scott shrugged.

“Oh?” Isaac said almost mockingly. “What were you studying for?”

“Chemistry. There’s a test Friday, remember?” Scott said.

“Funny. Mr. Harris hasn’t been seen for days, you still think we’re gonna have it?” Isaac said.

“Better safe than sorry,” Scott shrugged. “Good night Isaac.” Isaac hummed in response before turning to the guest room down the hall. “Wait, Isaac?” He paused. “You can wake me up if you need me.” Isaac nodded slowly.

“‘Night, Scott,” Isaac said.

Isaac had bent the truth slightly. He had told his therapist that sometimes he would wake up in the night screaming. This was true. What he hadn’t said was that he wakes up every night. The screaming is occasional, the panic is not. And there was no way he was going to wake up Scott if he could help it, they’d done enough for him. Isaac cracked the window to let some air in and got into the creaky bed in the spare room that may or may not be his now. Come on, just make it to morning. No dreams. 

~

When Isaac woke up it was not morning. Or if it was, he couldn’t see any light. Because there was darkness pressing in around him and the blankets had been replaced by cold metal and chains wrapping tighter and tighter. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. He clawed at the metal a foot above him and gasped for breath. Every movement resulted in him sharply hitting his long limbs against the walls of the freezer as he fought against the unrelenting metal. Isaac writhed against the chains around his neck and then felt a sharp pain on his back as the breath was knocked out of him.

~

The room lightened slightly from the streetlights outside and Isaac pulled the blankets he was tangled in away from his throat. He had fallen off the bed. He stumbled to his feet, breathing heavily from the window. He stared down at his hands, surprised to find his fingernails and knuckles clean of blood or bruising.

“Just a dream, you’re okay,” Isaac said softly, still breathing heavily.

The electric clock on the bedside table shone out 3:37 in the gloom. While he was trembling and still exhausted, he didn’t want to go back to bed yet. He crept down the hall to the stairs, his feet light from years of sneaking carefully around his father. The kitchen was empty and quiet, and much cooler than his suffocating room. Isaac’s mouth felt full of cotton as he poured himself some water with shaking hands. He still hadn’t quite shaken the dream from his system. The room was open and cool and had more light from the small lamp the McCalls kept on in their front room. He was okay. Well, no, he wasn’t. But he would make it to tomorrow.

“Scott? Honey, are you alright?” The sleepy voice of Ms. McCall came from the hallway. “Isaac? Did you have another nightmare?” She rubbed her eyes and entered the kitchen.

“Sorry if I woke you, Ms. McCall,” Isaac said.

“You’re fine, I’ve been working night shifts at the hospital lately, it’s hard to break the cycle,” she smiled at him before getting some milk for herself from the fridge. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Isaac said.

“Alright. If you’re sure. I think it’s worth a shot though, since we haven’t really made a difference doing anything else,” Melissa said, although she was careful not to push.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” Isaac said, leaning back against the counter. His feet felt cold on the floor, but he didn’t mind it.

“Was it your dad?” Melissa said carefully.

“No. Well, sort of. It was the freezer,” Isaac didn’t know why he was telling her this. She wasn’t his parent, this wasn’t her problem.

“Is there anything we can do to help? Do you want to leave your door open, maybe?” She offered.

“No, it’s not like that. I keep the window open but it doesn’t help until I’m awake,” Isaac said.

“Why didn’t you come get one of us?” She asked. Isaac didn’t respond. “We mean it when we say you can come get us, Isaac.”

“I was already calming down on my own,” Isaac said dismissively.

“Isaac, you look white as a sheet, I don’t think you’re that okay. Even if you think you’re okay you still have us to talk to,” Melissa insisted.

“Okay. I’m going to go back to bed,” Isaac worried she would press him to talk more about his nightmare. “Thanks, Ms. McCall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope other Isaac Lahey fans appreciate our boy getting some fucking therapy! My experience with therapy was not for traumatic events so it may not be 100% accurate to that experience, but I hope it'll still make for a more accurate portrayal of trauma than what Isaac got.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked a startled Scott as he leaned in his doorway.

“Uh, I was gonna go get some food to eat,” Scott said sheepishly.

“Oh, cool, I’ll come with you,” Isaac replied smoothly.

“Nah, dude, it’s okay. I can eat alone,” Scott said with an amused huff.

“What’re you getting?” Isaac smirked slightly, following Scott’s lie with ease.

“Uh… Mexican,” Scott stared down at his helmet.

“Dude, I love Mexican,” Isaac turned to leave with him.

“Isaac,” Scott said firmly. “I can eat alone, it’s okay,” Scott’s voice was softer now. Sincere.

“You’re not going alone,” Isaac said with a strange half sort of smile. “Come on,” he nodded towards the door and turned.

-

It was always worse after a fight. Especially when said fight probably killed his alpha who he wasn’t on great terms to begin with. He and Scott had rode home in a shocked sort of silence. Derek couldn’t really be dead. But the way he had fallen… no. Despite the fact that neither of them wanted to admit it even an alpha couldn’t survive a fall like that.

“Scott,” Isaac finally spoke as they both stood frozen inside the doorway of the house. Scott turned to him with hollow eyes. “What… what do we do now?”

“We have a cross country meet this weekend,” was Scott’s only response.

“Are you kidding me? Derek’s dead, Scott,” Isaac’s voice shook. “And you’re thinking about cross country?” Isaac spat the words, his grief tamped down like the rest of his emotions and replaced with a harshness.

“We can’t stay here. We’re vulnerable alone, at least on a crowded bus Deucalion will be less likely to go after us,” Scott frowned. His coping coming in the form of rationalizing, leading.

“To go after us? He already has, Scott! He killed one of our own and he wants to kill more. He tried to make Derek kill Boyd do you really think being around other teenagers will make a difference?” Isaac fumed, his words sharp as his claws.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Scott all but roared back. “I don’t know what else to do, Isaac,” Scott swayed slightly on his feet, his complexion paler than usual and his eyes almost glassy.

“Boys? Are you alright?” Melissa had heard the shouting and come running, baseball bat in hand. “What the hell happened?” She stared at the two weakened boys with worry. “Scott, come here,” she pulled him in tightly into a hug, the baseball bat clattered to the floor. Neither of them noticed Scott wince as pressure was applied to the wounds on his stomach. “You too, Isaac,” she pulled him in too. “Is there anything I need to know about?”

“No,” Scott shook his head, voice shaking. He couldn’t bring more worry onto his mom. He couldn’t tell her that someone had died tonight. Not yet.

“I don’t believe you, but off to bed, both of you. It’s well past one and you have to be on the bus tomorrow at eight,” Melissa ushered them both up the stairs, wishing that one of her boys would just tell her the truth.

~

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please stop! I’m sorry!” Isaac croaked out through a bloodied lip that wasn’t healing. The fists slammed into his jaw once more, throwing him back against the kitchen wall of his old house. The fists felt like his father’s, but when he looked up, half the time the man’s face was Derek’s. He felt chains wrap around his throat, silencing his pleading with gagging gasps for air. He felt his father’s hands yank the chain and throw him forward. His father’s hands grabbed him by the throat and threw him down the basement stairs. But it was still Derek’s eyes staring coldly down at him.

“Just get out. Get out!” Derek’s voice shouted harshly from the top of the stairs. “Go!” He shouted and Isaac felt glass rain down above him.

“Grab the chains,” his father’s voice felt closer now, leering over him. “Get in. I said get in.” Isaac didn’t move, he stayed curled on the concrete floor, his hands over his head. “Are you not hearing me, son? I said get in the damn freezer!”

~

Isaac felt Scott’s hands hold him down as his eyes flashed a yellowed gold. Scott was shouting something.

“Isaac! Calm down, you turned! Isaac just calm down!” Scott said, trying to lock down on his friend’s fighting limbs and clawed hands.

Isaac couldn't help it. He still felt suffocated and bruised as he fought violently against Scott’s grip. Eventually, it could've been minutes or an hour, Isaac couldn't tell, he felt his claws retract and his head cleared, but not enough to stop his trembling or racing heart.

“Isaac? Can you hear me?” Ms. McCall entered the room as she heard quiet fall. Isaac nodded, unable to speak through his panicked breaths. “I want you to breathe with me, okay?” 

Ms. McCall took slow, steady breaths and waited for Isaac to follow. He didn't at first, he was too panicked to physically slow down but he stared at her and tried to follow the slow soothing inhales and exhales. After some time, Scott felt confident enough to let go of him and Isaac continued to slow his breathing. Scott hovered behind his mother anxiously waiting for Isaac to calm completely. Eventually Isaac calmed enough to speak.

“I’m sorry. Scott, did I hurt you?” He said shakily.

“No. You almost hurt yourself though with the way you were kicking,” Scott said with a sad sort of sigh.

“How long was I like that?” Isaac asked. Scott glanced at the clock.

“About four hours ago I heard you screaming,” he said with such casualness.

“God, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with this,” all of Isaac's bravo had drained out of him and he came off as only ashamed.

“Neither should you, Isaac. I knew what I was getting into having you stay with us. It's okay,” Melissa rubbed his back calmly. “Do you think you'll be okay for the rest of the night?”

“I think so,” Isaac honestly wasn't sure, but he didn’t want to keep them there any longer.

“I’m going to sleep in here tonight,” Scott said with that firm frown he always seemed to get when he’d made up his mind about something.

“Where?” Isaac said dismissively.

Scott stared at him almost aloofly before turning around and marching into his room. Melissa winced at the grating sound of a chair against her hardwood floors and soon Scott reappeared dragging the chair from his room with ease before standing smugly in the doorway.

“Fine, your choice,” Isaac rolled over and tried to fall back asleep. Panic attacks were exhausting.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Melissa left with a yawn. “Love you!” She called back to what Isaac assumed was just Scott.

“You sure you’re okay, Isaac?” Scott asked. Solemn as ever.

“Just- go to bed Scott,” Isaac tried to sound annoyed despite really just being uncomfortable with the level of concern they were giving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates probably won't always be this frequent, but I have a lot already written right now and I'm excited. Hope you all liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

Isaac was a kid again, and his dad was having one of his bad nights. Isaac cowered under his bed, waiting for his father to drag him out and give him hell. He could already feel his body being thrown into the freezer even as he screamed for help. He tried to muffle his whimpered sobs as he heard footsteps enter the room. Instead, a frightened redhead stared curiously at him. A strange look of pity crossed her face before she left him there, she had other matters to attend to like the defeated boy in the bathtub.

-

“I heard that your cross country trip was… eventful,” Dr. Gallagher said the following Wednesday.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Isaac said.

“What would you like to talk about first? The trip there or the events that took place at the motel?” She asked.

“The trip there?” It wasn’t a response. He didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You attacked Ethan, one of the twins? In front of the whole team, nonetheless. What spurred you to that act?”

Isaac laughed coldly, “that? That was nothing. That motherfucker helped kill Derek and I thought he was about to be responsible for Scott’s death as well, and just because Scott got better doesn’t mean what he did was right. He deserved it.”

“You’re very protective of Scott,” she pointed out.

“Well, yeah. He’s… he’s a good guy. That seems damn near impossible to find in this town,” Isaac shrugged.

“What about the rest of them? Your friends, your pack? Scott’s pack?”

“Scott doesn’t have a pack, not really. He’s not an alpha,” Isaac frowned.

Dr. Gallagher smiled knowingly, “I’d say it’s a pack of sorts. Allison, Lydia, Stiles, even Derek in a way. And you.”

“Me? I doubt it, just because Scott isn’t a jerk to me doesn’t mean he wants me in his pack. Not to mention Stiles, his best friend, hates me,” Isaac scoffed.

“Does he?”

“Yeah, all he does is snap at me. Says me pointing out stuff that’s true isn’t helpful all because it isn’t good news,” he rolled his eyes.

“Sounds more like he just worries about things working out,” she said.

“More like he doesn’t like hearing the truth,” Isaac muttered.

“I think you have more in common than you think,” she said, reviewing her notes. “Let’s move on to the motel. From what I’ve heard, it was wolfsbane that poisoned all of you. It made you see things. What sort of things did you see?”

Isaac’s hands moved restlessly as seemed to be his habit. “I heard my dad,” he began.

“What did he say?”

“I-I think it was the first time he put me in the freezer, I don’t quite remember,” Isaac shook his head slightly.

“Do you have any idea why your mind went there while influenced by the wolfsbane?”

“I don’t know,” Isaac said.

“What else happened?”

“I felt like I was a kid again. Like I was ten years old and I was hiding from my dad,” Isaac said quietly.

“Why were you hiding, Isaac?”

“Because we were all fucking drugged. Because I thought my dad was gonna beat the hell out of me, I don’t know!” Isaac snapped.

“I know your regression was because of the wolfsbane, I meant in that moment. Was there a reason that you thought your father was going to hurt you?” She asked calmly. She was always so calm.

“There’s always something, isn’t there? A bad grade, dirty dishes, lying,” his mouth felt dry. “A stripped bolt.”

“I’m going to be straight with you, Isaac. Do you believe your father was ever justified? Ever?” She asked.

“No,” Isaac answered with a certainty that seemed almost forced. “Even if I screwed up, I was just a fucking kid. You don’t do that shit to a kid.”

“You know, Isaac, while you’re completely right, and I really hope you know that, sometimes I think you don’t believe that,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Isaac frowned.

“You don’t seem to expect comfort from your loved ones and you… well, you expect harsher consequences for your actions than what would be considered necessary. Do you understand?” She spoke carefully.

“Not really,” his voice stayed jaded, because on some level he knew what she meant, and he hated it.

“At what point do you think you stopped being a kid?” She asked.

“I don’t know. I guess when I was fourteen or so. I got my first job and all that, I mean I was still young, but I wasn’t really a kid,” Isaac shrugged.

“Isaac, I know as a teenager you’re going to rebuke me for saying this, but you still are a kid. You didn’t deserve what happened to you when you were ten and you didn’t deserve what happened when you were sixteen, do you think you can believe that? Maybe not fully now, but eventually?” She spoke so gently, it caused an ache in Isaac’s chest that had nothing to do with the amount of fighting he had done in the past few weeks.

“Things really aren’t fair, doc,” Isaac said quietly, his voice suddenly hoarser than it was before.

“I know, Isaac. Please don’t think the cruelty you’ve been dealt will stop you from getting better in the future,” she said. “I’m really glad that you’re willing to talk to me. Could you tell me about how you’ve been sleeping this past week? How have the nightmares been?”

“Since the motel, it’s been worse. Scott’s taken to sleeping in my room half the night and crawling back to his in the morning,” Isaac said with a small laugh.  
“What kind of dreams have you been having? And how have you reacted when you wake up?”

“It’s always been the same two things. Either the freezer, my dad hurting me, or sometimes both,” Isaac said. “And depending on how… intense it is sometimes I turn and Scott has to stop me. It’s just like I said before, it’s just been worse lately.”

“Do you think before what happened at the motel you were getting better? Even a bit?”

“I must have, because it only got worse because I felt like it had just happened, you know?” Isaac frowned.

“Do you think that means you still have the potential to get better?” 

“Well obviously. I never said I couldn't get better, I just don't know if I can make it happen,” Isaac said.

“So you'd like to recover sooner? Or more effectively?”

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded.

“Would you like to talk about the dreams? Or maybe write about them? Journaling can be very helpful for processing things,” she suggested.

“I'm not really good at writing,” Isaac said.

“Then maybe you could just talk about them. The feelings and what you'd like to change,” she said.

“I'm claustrophobic, aren't I?”

“Well, I haven't diagnosed you yet but yes, I would agree you experience severe anxiety in enclosed spaces,” she said carefully.

“So, I want to get over that. I want to get over that and I want to sleep through the night, even just sometimes,” Isaac said.

“Those are good goals, Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher smiled. “I would also like to suggest another goal be more interpersonal. I want you to open up and find support in your friends. I understand that depending on and trusting others is difficult and new, but I'd like us to work towards that.”

“Shouldn't you be teaching me to be able to deal with this shit alone?”

“No. In some cases, dependency can be a problem, but for you, isolating and being emotionally detached isn't healthy,” she explained.

“I don't know who I'd talk to,” Isaac said quietly.

“Maybe try Scott? He's obviously worried. If anything, I'm hoping you'll start to open up to me, and I'm glad you've told me some things so far,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Isaac said almost defensively.

“Anything. What's scaring you, how you hope to deal with it. Talking to me is sort of like journaling, my feedback should be like a conduit for what you tell me,” she said.

Isaac was quiet. “I'm not just scared by what's happened, I'm scared about what's gonna happen. I wanted the bite so I could get away, but now that I have it there's all this stuff to take care of in Beacon Hills. And I mean Scott has it worse, he thinks he's responsible for everyone, I just wish for me it was one or the other. What happened with my dad or all this stuff in the town, you know? I feel like I can't deal with both.”

“Part of the problem is you're trying to deal with one alone. With all this stuff in the town, Scott gets the whole pack together to try and fix it, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why is it any different with your past? You don't have to carry that weight alone.”

“I don't want to expect people to help me. It isn't their problem,” Isaac muttered.

“You don't want to be a bother, but did you ever think it was more like a trade? You help Scott shoulder that responsibility, yes?”

“I guess, we all do though,” Isaac said reluctantly.

“Well I think Scott is trying to help you with your problems as well. Why don't you try and let him?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey,” Scott stood once Isaac returned to the waiting room. Isaac rolled his eyes.

“You really don’t have to wait for me,” Isaac said.

“I just came to pick you up, I was busy at the hospital, some… stuff has happened. And how else would you get home?” Scott said with an amused smile.

“I’d walk, like I do everywhere else,” Isaac said.

“Just say thank you, and let me take you home,” Scott teased.

They sped away on Scott’s bike, night had fallen while he was inside. And a lot had changed. Once they got home, Scott filled him in on what had happened.

“The killer is targeting healers, doctors and such,” he said worriedly.

“What, like you’re mom?” Isaac said.

“Yeah, exactly like my mom,” he went inside.

“How’d it go, Isaac?” Ms. McCall called from the couch.

“Fine. Has Scott told you what’s been going on?” He asked.

“Yes?” She said, looking confused.

“And you aren’t worried? At all?”

“What would worrying do for me? Besides, I doubt they’d go after me. I’m gonna get an early night, work was hell today,” she yawned and stretched before heading up to her room.

“I don’t want to leave her alone, not with them targeting people like that,” Scott frowned. “Do you think you’ll be okay alone for a night?”

“What, are you gonna stay up all night?” Isaac scoffed.

“If I have to,” was Scott’s ever so noble response.

“Come on, you got to sleep, especially with everything that’s been happening,” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“I’m not leaving her undefended, Isaac,” Scott said firmly, that look of certainty and determination staring at Isaac was unstoppable. Isaac sighed.

“Fine,” he said.

“What?” Scott’s look turned to one of confusion.

“I’ll stay up with you, we’ll take it in shifts,” he turned towards the stairs.

“I think my mom can be alone for another half hour, have you eaten anything?” Scott stopped him.

“No, but if you’re that worried-”

“Isaac, you’ve got to take care of yourself,” Scott insisted. Isaac stared at him for a moment, still confused by this intense caring that came from Scott. He just couldn’t understand how anyone could care that much about so many people. “We’ve got leftover pizza, come on,” Scott dragged him into the kitchen.

“You never give up, do you?” Isaac said, only half mockingly.

“Damn right,” Scott said, pushing him towards the fridge.

“Tell me then, Scott, when was the last time you’ve eaten, since it seems like you spend most of your time saving the good people of Beacon Hills from being sacrificial lambs,” Isaac said sarcastically.

“Okay, fine. We both need to take better care of ourselves, now will you eat already?” Scott said, grabbing a slice of the cold pizza for himself.

“It’s been a hell of a day, hasn’t it?” Isaac said after a few minutes of them sitting in an unusual sort of silence.

“I’m just glad Danny made it out okay, someone had to,” Scott muttered.

“Do you think Ethan really cares about him?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t know if Ethan’s really a bad guy, he’s just on the wrong side of things, you know?” Scott said.

“Yeah, well, I hope you don’t expect him to change anytime soon, not with his evil twin and even eviler pack,” Isaac said.

“I mean, you used to be on the wrong side of things, and you’ve changed,” Scott said.

“Okay, we thought Lydia was turning into a homicidal lizard, you can’t blame us for trying to kill her,” Isaac said, getting a little offended. “Derek did right by us, maybe not in the perfect mushy way you do with your pack, but he was sure as hell better than my life before,” Isaac sighed.

“You and Erica tried to kill me. At an ice rink,” Scott said.

“Hey, we weren’t trying to kill you, that’s not fair. We just wanted to get you to leave Boyd alone,” Isaac said.

“I didn’t want him getting dragged into all of this, it could get him killed, it could get any of us killed,” Scott said.

“By hunters? The Argents aren’t exactly the enemy anymore,” Isaac said.

“You mean you’re okay with everything that’s happened? You don’t wish you could take it back? Be normal for a change?” Scott said.

“Dude, if Derek hadn’t bitten me, I’d still be under my dad’s thumb. As if I’ve ever been normal,” Isaac scoffed. “I’ve always been the weird kid with no friends who works in a graveyard and comes to school with bruises on his face,” he said bitterly.

“Someone could’ve helped you,” Scott said quietly.

“Yeah? Like who? The sheriff, who believed me when I told him I got a black eye from lacrosse? Or maybe Jackson, who fucking saw my dad hurting me and never said shit,” Isaac said sharply. “Or what, you would’ve done something, Scott? You would’ve been a hero like you always are and you would’ve noticed me? You and Stiles didn’t know I existed until Derek turned me.” Scott stared at him, a look of utter guilt on his face. Isaac didn’t care, he kept going.

“You know I’ve been on the lacrosse team since sophomore year and you never said a word to me? No one did. And yeah, I sure as hell didn’t say anything but as far as I knew no one was gonna be any help and my dad was gonna give me hell if I told anyone,” Isaac’s words came out coldly, almost violently from all the pain he had bottled up and the bullshit that was Scott McCall thinking he could have just gotten help. “I thought he was gonna kill me,” Isaac said quietly. “I thought my dad was gonna kill me if I did anything besides keep my head down and lie, and lie well. Because if anyone found out, he was gonna lock me in that freezer and never let me out.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said. “I didn’t mean to blame you, I know you couldn’t just get out. I… I’m sorry I never saw you, Isaac.”

“Don’t be. No one else saw me either,” Isaac said.

They got changed and Isaac tried to lose the tension in his shoulders. He had to let it go, Ms. McCall was their priority right now. They met in the hallway. Scott had a bowl of popcorn and sodas in his hands.

“You still didn’t eat,” he said pointedly. Isaac let out an annoyed sigh.

“What, you think this is gonna be a slumber party?” He said jadedly.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be boring,” Scott said hopefully.

“Alright, fine,” Isaac said, grabbing a drink and opening the door.

They snuck carefully into Ms. McCall’s room, where she had crashed after work. “I’ll take first watch, you get some sleep,” Scott said quietly.

Scott sat on the floor at the end of her bed, Isaac leaning back into the leather chair, trying to sleep. Well, it was way nicer than the freezer. At this point Isaac could crash anywhere.

“Hey, Isaac?” Scott gently prodded him awake.

“What?” Isaac murmured disorientedly, forgetting for a moment where he was. It was very dark, and the air had that feeling that came with it being well into the night.

“It’s almost one, could you take over for a few hours?” He whispered.

“Mhm, yeah. Sure,” Isaac said blearily, getting up so Scott could sleep in the chair.

“Just wake me up in a few hours, then I’ll take over until morning,” Scott said before curling tiredly into the leather.

Isaac sat alone in the darkness, staring at the windows and the door, tension heavy in his limbs. For about five minutes, at which point he realized the next few hours were likely going to be uneventful and boring. He sighed and leaned back against the dresser, he glanced at Scott, who was now asleep with his mouth hanging open slightly, Isaac smirked. Looking around the room, he saw the half-finished bowl of chips and nibbled on a few, just to give himself something to do. He thought back on the hours of sleep he had gotten. No nightmares. Then again, maybe it was just because he hadn’t slept enough. He glanced at the clock, it was barely one thirty and he already felt tired. Isaac shook himself and sat up, thinking of the dead doctors and the kind woman sleeping in the bed in front of him.

You’re not sleeping, Isaac. Focus, he thought. Hypervigilance was no stranger to him, but he hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and while he’d had some bad nights back with his dad, he also hadn’t had the luxury to lose sleep when he could get it. Now that the nightmares were a constant, so was at least a little exhaustion. Isaac wondered if he would be sleeping any better at Derek’s. He’d be crashing on the couch while the brooding Alpha paced the back room of the loft. He’d wake up from the nightmares, sometimes Derek wouldn’t notice and Isaac would try and keep it that way, others, when he was screaming at times, Derek would rush over to him, looking for an enemy instead of holding onto his panicked beta in the way the McCall’s did. Once he realized no one was breaking into the loft, Derek wasn’t very good at helping calm him down. It wasn’t because he didn’t care, although now Isaac felt it was likely he didn’t, Derek just didn’t understand how to help someone face something he couldn’t punch.

“Isaac! Isaac, calm down!” He would shout, sometimes shake him to try and snap him out of it. “Nothing’s happening, Isaac! Just breathe, come on, you gotta calm down, right now! Someone’s gonna hear you and call the cops!” On the nights when that didn’t get him to at least stop thrashing around, Derek would just sit back and wait it out, absolutely clueless on what to do to help him. Maybe that’s why Derek kicked him out, he just got tired of dealing with Isaac on the bad nights. Maybe he didn’t want him waking up Cora.  
Isaac felt his eyes grow heavy and tried to resist it, his thoughts on the loft seemed to blur with dreams. He felt himself slipping into memories of glass shattering over his head and walking through Beacon Hills in the rain and stumbling onto Scott’s porch. Ms. McCall ushering him inside, trying to get an explanation. Him, unsure of what to do and insisting on talking to Scott. Bits of glass still in his soaking wet hair…

“Boys!” Both of them were jolted awake by an annoyed Melissa. Scott shot up out of his seat and Isaac scrambled to his feet, arms flailing slightly. “What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, a look that could only be described as ‘done’.

“Uh we were watching, over you,” Isaac said, glancing to Scott for support, his arms up awkwardly in front of him.

“We wanted to make sure you weren’t the third sacrifice,” Scott insisted.

“But both of you were asleep,” Melissa said incredulously.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You were on watch last,” Scott said.

“What are you talking about, you were on watch last!” Isaac tried.

“No, you were on watch last,” Scott said.

“I might’ve been on watch last,” Isaac nodded at Ms. McCall. She laughed under her breath.

“My heroes,” she said. “Wait, didn’t you say that they were all doctors? I mean I haven’t had an M.D. recently attached to the end of my name, so I think I’m in the clear.”

“Yeah, but it could just come under any kind of healer, mom,” Scott stepped forward and Isaac busied himself with the cans and empty bowls they had left on her dresser. “And you were definitely a healer last night.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna be anyone’s human sacrifice today, so both of you, get your butts to school,” she said pointedly before ushering them out of her room.

“That went well,” Isaac said sarcastically.

“Yeah, says the guy who fell asleep on watch,” Scott said.

“Sorry, I tried,” he shrugged.

They tiredly pulled on their clothes and headed to the high school where Boyd stopped Isaac between classes.

“Hey, I have an idea to help Derek,” he said.

“Help Derek?” Isaac said.

“Yeah, Kali is coming for him. Haven’t you heard?” Boyd said insistently.

“Derek hasn’t exactly kept me in the loop lately,” Isaac muttered, slamming his locker shut.

“Maybe that’s because he doesn’t want anyone getting in Kali’s way since she’s planning on slicing him up with her weird toe claws,” Boyd pointed out. “Come on, we’ve got to try and help him.”

“What did you have in mind?” Isaac sighed.

“Well, you know how the Argents stopped me and Erica from turning with electricity? I thought if we could somehow stop Kali from getting into Derek’s loft, maybe by flooding it or setting something up with wiring, we could have an advantage,” he had a duffle bag with him. Inside of it was long coils of wire.

“Boyd, you’re kind of a genius,” Isaac said. “Come on,” he turned to head out the door.

“Where do you two gentlemen think you’re going?” A teacher cut them off.

“We are planning on going to the nurse’s office,” Isaac stopped, and lied easily with a smirk. “I’m feeling pretty sick, my head’s hurting, you’re feeling pretty bad too, aren’t you Boyd?”

“Miserable,” Boyd said, sharply turning and heading back towards the nurse’s office.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt strange to be back at the loft. Derek didn’t seem angry with him, in fact he fully supported their plan to take on Kali. Boyd really was a clever guy, but Isaac couldn’t get the nervous tension to leave his body.

“Is this gonna kill them?” Isaac asked as they stared at the electricity now crackling through the water.

“I hope so,” Boyd said.

“Derek, what happens if it doesn’t work?” Isaac turned to face the alpha standing broodingly behind him.

“It’s gonna work. Kali is gonna get what’s coming to her,” Derek said grimly.

“It better, because if both her and the twins show up, I don’t know if we can take them all on,” Isaac said.

“You know, I’m starting to think Stiles was right about you being a pessimist,” Boyd teased.

“You know I’m right,” Isaac raised his hands defensively.

“If you weren’t willing to fight, you shouldn’t have come,” Derek said seriously, staring off at the doorway with those dark eyes shadowed more by his heavy brow.

Isaac stared at him, his eyes lighter, more calculating. “We knew what were getting into,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, Derek. Isaac’s the one who got us out of school so we could come help, even though you kicked him out,” Boyd defended him.

“I didn’t kick him out because I was trying to be a dick!” Derek snapped. Isaac stared at him, wondering how he could explain himself. “It’s-It’s because of Kali! And Deucalion! All of them!”

“What do you mean? Did you think I wasn’t strong enough? That I’d get in the way?” Isaac said coldly.

“No-It’s not like that,” Derek’s hands balled into fists as he warred over whether or not to tell them what kind of danger they were both in.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac said with a sigh that somehow held snark, just like with everything Isaac did.

Derek didn’t respond. “Fine, don’t try and make up for it, Derek,” Boyd said. “Just, let’s all try not to fight until after Kai is dead.”

“I’m doing what I know is right, you both are supposed to listen to me!” Derek continued.

“Where was he supposed to go, Derek?” Boyd said. His voice was steady, somehow Boyd was always steady.

“He figured it out, didn’t he?” Derek bit back. Isaac said nothing, just stayed sitting on his island of wooden boards amid the pool of electricity they were bickering in.

“With no thanks to you, Derek,” Boyd seemed truly angry now. “You were too late to save Erica, and then you don’t even seem to care about the rest of us! You knew the alpha pack was out there and you sent Isaac away anyways! You didn’t even get help when you and Isaac were looking for us! Erica and I-” Boyd’s voice shook. “We were stuck in there, in that fucking room, for months! For weeks we waited for you! You’re the alpha, you’re supposed to protect us! Y-You’re not supposed to kick us out,” he gestured to Isaac who wouldn’t even look at them. “You’re not supposed to let us get taken away, you were supposed to save her. Erica wasn’t supposed to die,” Boyd was shaking now.

“You and Erica wanted out, I let you both leave, you can’t blame me for that, that’s on you, Boyd!” Derek growled.

“Yeah, that’s on me,” Boyd said quietly. “But the fact that you weren’t exactly taking care of us before then, the fact that you seem to forget that you promised to look after us, that’s on you.”

“There are things going on here that you don’t understand, Boyd,” Derek snapped. “Deucalion wants me to-He wants-” Derek stopped.

“What? It can’t be something to justify you abandoning your own. I get it, Cora, she’s your sister, but why’d you have to choose between them? Why’d it have to be Isaac or Cora?” Boyd kept pushing.

“Why’re you speaking for him? You weren’t even here!”

“Yeah, because I had somewhere to go! Isaac didn’t! Would you be saying different if Scott hadn’t helped him? Or if worse- if because of your recklessness, Deucalion killed Isaac too?”

“Shut up! Both of you!” Isaac finally broke. “Neither of you have the right to talk about me like I’m some scared kid!” Derek looked almost smug. “Especially you Derek! You messed up. Maybe you had your reasons for kicking me out, but you didn’t give me any! I don’t know where I’d be if Scott hadn’t let me stay and Boyd’s right, that would’ve been on you. And Boyd- We did everything we could to find you. Both of you. For months, all we did was look. You weren’t even part of our pack anymore, not really, but we didn’t give up. I wish we’d gotten there just a bit sooner, but we didn’t,” Isaac’s voice weakened. “Don’t you dare act like I didn’t care about Erica, like we didn’t do everything we could. She was my first friend and Derek cared about her too, so don’t go blaming us when we tried so damn hard to find you!”

“Isaac, we don’t think you’re some scared kid-” Derek began.

“Are you sure? I feel like if someone isn’t acting like I’m just some tragedy to be investigated- yeah, I know you took Scott creeping around my house- then people just think I’m an asshole! I’m trying to get better, but I don’t need this from either of you! We’ve got other priorities right now so how about we just shut up about it.”

“I’m sorry, Isaac. I know Erica meant a lot to you too,” Boyd said quietly. “I just wish things had been different, you know?”

There was a strange sort of silence before Boyd slid to the floor and they resumed their wait.

-

“Isn’t the light on that supposed to be on?” Isaac stared across the loft, a cold feeling of dread under his skin.

“Yeah,” Derek said slowly.

“What does it mean if it’s not?” Isaac asked, eyes wide.

“Someone cut the auxiliary power,” Derek said quietly.

“What about the main-” Boyd was cut off by the lights above them shutting off. They jumped to their feet. Derek stepped forward, staring down at the water before stepping into it. Nothing. Isaac stared after him fearfully.

“Derek,” Isaac said, his panic rising. “What do we do now?” He said, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“We fight,” Derek said darkly, facing the door to the loft with balled fists.

Of course that crazy bitch had brought the twins with her, and of course they for some reason had their English teacher hostage. Worse, it seemed like Derek was screwing her. Boyd and Isaac itched to join the fight, truly wondering- could Derek actually beat Kali?

Boyd leaned over to Isaac, “I’m texting Cora. We need help.” Isaac nodded, staring at the two werewolves fighting in the water with a clenched jaw.

“When they get here, I’ll take care of the twins and Ms. Blake, you help Derek,” Isaac said softly.

Kali threw Derek to the ground, Isaac began to rush forward, panic weighing inside of him as Derek began to lose.

“No!” Derek shouted at him, forcing Isaac to stumble back.

“Wait!” Isaac called back to Boyd, his eyes wide.

Isaac felt his phone buzz in his hand, Stiles. Isaac ran through the water towards the twins and Ms. Blake. Boyd ran to Derek. The power came back on. Isaac steeled his resolve and held on tightly to the hysterical woman, staring as his alpha and only surviving packmate were electrocuted. His heart pounding, he tried to shield her with his body as Kali and the twins quickly recovered. Isaac didn’t know what was happening. It was happening so fast, Boyd- Isaac looked away, but he heard it. Derek’s claws digging into the chest of someone he was supposed to protect. As the alphas left, Isaac could only watch as Derek held onto Boyd’s dying form. He couldn’t do anything. He could barely process what was happening.

“It’s okay,” Boyd said weakly. Isaac wished he couldn’t hear him, but he could. All because of what Derek had done to all of them. “The full moon, that feeling? That was worth it.” Isaac couldn’t believe that, not after everything. Boyd’s body hit the water. Isaac still didn’t move.

Then came Stiles and Cora. Too late. Cora ran to Boyd. She held him. Isaac still didn’t move. Stiles, Stiles of all people held onto Derek’s shoulder and anchored him. Isaac still didn’t move.


	6. Chapter 6

“Isaac? Isaac are you okay?” Scott got off his bike and ran up to Isaac who was sitting on the front porch. “Did you lose your key?”

“M-My key?” Isaac choked out, his head in his hands.

“Why didn’t you go inside?” Isaac didn’t respond. Scott continued. “Stiles told me what happened. I was gonna stop by the loft and talk to Derek but he and Cora were busy trying to… to take care of Boyd.”

“Take care of his body, you mean?” Isaac said harshly. “They killed him, Scott,” he gasped out for breath, fighting back sobs.

“Isaac, I’m so sorry-”

“Where were you, Scott?” He looked up, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched as he tried not to lunge at him.

“I’m so sorry-”

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” Isaac stood, his hands balled into his fists and he could feel his claws trying to rise up and cut into his hands. “I asked where were you?”

“I tried, Isaac. There was too much happening and I know Cora, Stiles, and Lydia tried to get there, I know they did,” Scott said, his voice shaking. People just wouldn’t stop dying.

“I know they tried, but where were you? You didn’t even show up,” Isaac said. He knew that really it wasn’t Scott’s fault but he was so desperate for a target, for someone to be mad at. He had been convinced in the final moment Scott would come running in and be the hero like always. But Scott wasn’t some perfect hero, because this wasn’t a story. This was their life, and people die.

“T-They had Deaton. They had Deaton and they were killing him,” Scott’s voice broke and he looked desperately for forgiveness from Isaac. “I tried to save everyone, Isaac. I really tried.”

“I-I don’t think I did,” Isaac bit back another sob. He felt so weak. Worse, he felt responsible. “I-I told him to go help Derek. I went to help Ms. Blake and sent him to Derek. If-If it had just been the other way around-”

“You’d be dead instead, Isaac. It wasn’t your fault,” Scott said firmly.

“Wouldn’t that have been better? Boyd- he was okay. He had a family. He was clever and he was stable and he was doing the right thing, wasn’t he? How come he’s the one who dies? He had someone. I… I don’t have anyone,” Isaac said.

“Isaac-”

“No! Scott, my family is dead. My mom, my dad, my brother. And now my pack? They’re dead too! Erica and-and Boyd… they’re gone, Scott,” Isaac said. Scott was quiet for a moment.

Headlights pulled into the driveway. Melissa jumped out of her car. “What the hell is going on, you two?!”

“Mom, we-” Scott took a deep breath. “We lost someone, mom.”

“You lost someone?”

“Boyd,” Isaac whispered. “T-They killed him.”

“Killed? Oh my god,” she turned to Scott. “Are you both alright? How did this-did someone hurt you?”

“D-Don’t look at me, mom, help Isaac,” he pushed her away and went to unlock the door with shaky hands.

Isaac stared down at his untied boots on the dark concrete. Boyd was dead. So was Erica. His first friends, his first real family ever since his dad lost it. It was gone. He didn’t know if he could even look at Derek anymore. How the hell would he sleep now? He couldn’t help but flinch as warm, gentle arms wrapped around him, curly hair covered his face and it smelled like hand sanitizer but Melissa holding him allowed the weight pressing down on his chest to settle slightly.

“You’re okay,” she said softly. Isaac stopped holding back the sobs in his throat and leaned against her. “You’re okay,” she held onto him tightly.

“No,” Isaac said softly. “They’re dead, they’re all dead.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” she just kept holding him, as if she could drain the pain from inside him in doing so. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Isaac wasn’t sure how long they stood there, shaking in the front yard. Eventually he made it up to bed, where Scott was sitting on the edge of it.

“I can’t be alone tonight, and I don’t think you want to be either,” he said quietly.

“Come on. You’re gonna get a sore back from sleeping in that chair every night,” Isaac climbed into bed, patting the space on the other side of it. Scott nodded slowly before joining him.

In the dark and quiet of the room after all the pain of just a few hours ago, they could hear each other's heartbeats refuse to slow as sleep evaded them. Their backs pressed together and their eyes open, facing away.

“Isaac?” Scott whispered into the dark.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll wake me up if you need me, right?”

“Okay.”

“And you're not alone, Isaac. You have us.”

~

Isaac was in a dark, cold room. There were bars and a big metal door, tile floors emboldened with a bank’s logo. The vault.

“Boyd?” Isaac called out to a figure leaning against the far wall. “Boyd? Is that you?” The figure didn’t respond. “Boyd? I-I can’t move.” Isaac felt chains around his neck against the bars behind him. Isaac jerked back, another figured appeared from the darkness. They began dragging whoever was leaning against the wall slowly towards him.

It was his dad. Dragging over his brother Camden. No, wait- It was Derek, dragging over Boyd, or was it Erica? No, it was definitely a boy. 

“Boyd, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I tried to find you I tried to get you out,” Isaac rambled almost hysterically. “I tried to save you I didn’t want you to die, I didn’t want you to die, you’re the only packmate I have left you weren’t supposed to die,” he spoke quickly, his voice soft and panicked. His dad-maybe-Derek tossed the body in front of him. It was Scott.

~

Isaac shot up, breathing heavily. It was one of the kindest nightmares he’d had in weeks but somehow being awake with the weight of grief in his chest was worse. Isaac buried his head in his hands, they were both dead. What was stopping them from killing everyone else?

“Isaac? Are you okay?” Scott mumbled sleepily from the other side of the bed.

“I'm fine, go back to sleep Scott,” Isaac said tiredly.

“No, tell me what's wrong,” Scott insisted. Isaac stared at him. “Okay, besides the obvious.”

“It's nothing but the obvious. Boyd is dead and we're losing, Scott. And it's not like I was doing great to begin with,” Isaac hissed into the dark, both wishing Scott would help him and leave him alone.

“Hey,” Scott sat up and put a hand on Isaac's shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“How are you always so sure?” Isaac stared at him.

“I don't know,” Scott stared off into the dark, lost in thought. “I guess because things have to work out. They have to.”

“And how can you say things have worked out when people keep dying?” Isaac snapped.

“Because… because… I don't know Isaac! We're still here, so how can't things get better? How can we stay miserable and scared like this forever?” Scott now seemed just as frustrated as Isaac.

“I wish I could believe that,” Isaac spoke softly now. “But I can't remember the last time I wasn't a little miserable.”

“We need to do something,” Scott said firmly.

“I know. We're trying to take on the alpha pack, but how can we-”

“No, I don't mean that stuff. That we really have to do, but if we don't do something else we're all gonna lose it, you know?” Scott said.

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

“When was the last time you did something fun? Something normal?” Scott said.

“I don't know. Closest thing to ‘fun’ I've had in forever was… I don't know,” Isaac laughed. “Trying to kill Lydia I guess.” Scott shot him a dirty look. “I mean I didn't want to kill her, not really. I just felt like I could do something. Like I was in control.”

“I was thinking more like ice skating. Or going to a party, you know?” Scott said softly.

“I don't think I have. Not really,” Isaac said. “I didn't really have friends before Derek turned me, not since I was a kid.”

“Then Isaac, I promise you we're going to do something fun,” Scott said with a half smile.

“If we both make it out of this,” Isaac said pointedly.

“I think I you might want to work on that pessimism, buddy,” Scott rolled his eyes. “Think you can go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Isaac said. “Good night, Scott.”

“Night, Isaac.”


	7. Chapter 7

Scott and Isaac had gone to school together that morning, but they were both distracted by things much more important than calculus. Scott rushed off into whatever new problem the others had dug up and Isaac was alone in the parking lot. He glanced to an empty spot. Allison’s. She’d chosen a very convenient time to be sick, unless… What if something had happened? What if she was hurt? What if it was another Boyd and he was going to show up too late? He tried to push away the anxiety he knew was just grief. Isaac glanced from the school to the empty parking spot. “I’m gonna regret this,” he muttered, before starting the long walk to Allison’s apartment. He eventually stood outside the front door to the building, his hands fiddling at his side in agitation. She was on what, the fourth floor? He contemplated the fire escape and the small amount of wall scaling he’d have to do to get to what he was pretty sure was her window. He wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, but he also wasn’t so confident her dad wouldn’t shoot him.  
After some tricky and sort of frustrating scaling of the side of the building, Isaac came to the conclusion that climbing through a hunter’s window was probably the stupidest thing he had done in a long while, but it still seemed safer than knocking on the door and having to confront her terrifying father, or at least it had seemed that way until Allison dragged him through the window and pinned him to the floor with a knife to his throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Allison asked, knife unmoving.

“You weren’t at school,” Isaac said, trying to press himself further into the floor.

“Did Scott send you? Is he checking up on me?” She sounded pissed. Isaac wasn’t sure if it was worse if he said Scott sent him or told her the truth that he’d come himself.

“Uh, maybe he’s worried about you,” he said carefully.

“I can take care of myself,” she said softly.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Isaac said, glancing at the knife still pressed against him. “More than once,” he added, recalling that lovely moment where Allison had stabbed him. A lot.

“Sorry,” Allison muttered, before helping him to his feet.

“Everything okay?” Isaac asked, brushing against his throat and wishing he’d worn a scarf.

“Yeah,” Allison said absentmindedly. “It’s just my dad, he knows when the murders are gonna happen, including future ones,” she stormed off into the apartment.

“Wait, wait- You mean you’re dad’s the killer?” Isaac said. This was just great, a trained hunter was the one they were looking for.

“No, well. I don’t think he is at least,” Allison entered the office, going to the desk. “I hope he isn’t.”

“You hope he isn’t the serial-killing dark druid who’s been slashing people’s throats?” isaac said pointedly.

“Yeah.”

“Right”

“You wanna help me or not?” She asked.

“Yeah I’m just- I’m just trying to get all the cards on the table here,” this was going to be a rough one to figure out.

“See the marks?” Allison shone a light onto the map on the desk. “There are five more bodies to be found, but it doesn’t say who the bodies are.”

Isaac stepped back, staring at the intersecting lines of Beacon Hills as one big web. His dad had always thought details were bullshit if you didn’t understand the bigger picture. He thought that with fixing the car and digging in the graveyard and whenever Isaac made a little mistake, whether in his grades or work, “What do you mean it’s one bad test? You think one bad grade won’t matter? You better look at the damn big picture, Isaac. One bad grade is gonna build and build until you’re failing, and I won’t have any failures in this house!” Really the only time his dad cared about the little things was when Isaac messed up the details. “Can’t even do the dishes properly, you better pick up all the glass off the floor or there will be a whole lot more to mop up.”

“What’re you doing?” Allison asked, shaking him out of his brooding.

“Something I learned from my father,” Isaac said grimly, his eyes still staring at the map. “Take a step back, look at the whole picture. Sometimes you see things you wouldn’t notice if you were up close when all you’re looking at are the details.”

Allison stepped back, her shoulder pressing into his. Gently. He stared at her for a moment, nothing but fire and resilience and sharp strategy, but also gentle. And Scott’s maybe-ex or maybe-girlfriend, you know the guy who’s letting you live with him? He scolded himself and tried to focus.

“Look at that, you see that?” She said intently. She picked up the map, revealing a massive design carved into the desk’s surface.

“Whoa, what is that?” Isaac asked, staring at the swirling circles made by the pattern.

“A fivefold knot,” Allison said, of course she knew. “It's a celtic symbol.”

Without really thinking, Isaac reached over and held onto her hand, moving the light over the desk. “Virgins,” he said cryptically. 

“Warriors,” Allison read as they moved to the next circle.

“Healers.”

“Philosophers”

“Guardians,” Isaac said, his voice soft. Whatever these words meant had power. They had finally found something. Allison turned to him and he to her as she came to the same conclusion.

Allison’s conclusion was more specific. “How does my dad know all this?” She said intensely. “He… oh my god he has to be responsible,” she sat down heavily in the chair at the desk. Isaac paced the room.

“Yeah, but why would your dad be doing this? It doesn’t make sense,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Allison paused. “We have to stop him.”

“Is that really a good idea?” Isaac thought back on her dad. And his many many guns. “I mean, if you’re dad is actually doing this stuff-”

“If?” Allison cut him off exasperatedly. A strange horror and pain overcame her expression. “Look at this. He knows everything. He’s-He’s planned everything.” Allison moved suddenly, pulling something from her pocket.

“What’re you doing?” Isaac said cautiously.

“If Mr. Westover was taken from the school, there’s gotta be another point on the telluric current,” she unfolded a second map and laid it out.

“You mean where he’ll be sacrificed,” Isaac said, always pointing out the worst parts of things. He followed her lead to that side of the desk, joining her in following the currents.

“There, that marks new,” he tapped onto the map.

“Then that’s where he is,” she took a picture of the point and rushed out the door.

“Where are you going?” Isaac followed.

“I’m going to stop him, thanks for your help, go find Scott or something,” she armed up and headed for the front door.

“No, no way. You’re not going to try and face off with your dad, your trained killer dad alone,” Isaac said.

“And you stand a better chance?” She scoffed. Isaac folded his arms indignantly.

“Well I could help,” he said stuffily.

“Fine, but just you and me, then. Too many people and he’ll know we’re coming,” Allison unlocked the car and headed off to the point on the map, an abandoned building.

As they pulled up Isaac felt uncertain, “you really don’t think we should call Scott?”

“Stay behind me, and stay quiet,” she said softly, all confidence.

She got out of the car and Isaac stared after her, mouth hanging open slightly. “Ohhh this is so not gonna end well,” he said softly to himself. With a grim sort of expression and a sigh, he followed her unfalteringly.

They entered the towering warehouse, pillars of stone touching the ceiling floors above them. “FYI, if your dad tries to kill me, I’m gonna defend myself,” Isaac couldn’t help but talk quietly into the tension.

“If my dad tries to kill you, you’ll be dead,” Allison said back.

Isaac let out a cold half laugh, turning around and staring into the darkness, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Blood. His nose filled with the sharp scent of metal, “I smell blood,” with a flicker of panic he grabbed Allison’s arm.

“Where? What direction?” She whispered.

“I don’t know, I’m not that good at this yet,” Isaac looked around as if that would help him figure out where it was coming from. It seemed stronger directly down the warehouse. “But I think it’s…” He pointed that way, trepidation in his every movement. Allison forged ahead, knife in hand. “Allison,” he said sharply. The blood smelled fresh. “Allison wait!” She paused, but not because of him.

A figure was bound to a wall of chain link fence, seeming barely conscious. And something was standing behind him. Allison was fucking crazy. She ran ahead, right at it.

“Allison, don’t!” He ran after her, knowing in some wolfish and maybe incredibly human part of him that whatever was down there was wrong. And very, very dangerous.

“Get down!” A gruff voice shouted behind them, without even thinking about it Isaac threw himself forward and pulled both of them to the ground and covered her with his body as bullets rained over them. “Help him!” With this command they both scrambled to their feet and ran to the teacher.

“That’s Mr. Westover,” Allison said.

“It’s our history teacher,” Isaac told Mr. Argent.

“We were wrong,” Allison said. In more than one way, Isaac thought, glancing at the obviously innocent Mr. Argent. “It’s not guardians as in law enforcement, it’s philosophers. It’s targeting teachers.”

“I’ll call Scott,” Isaac said. “Hey, Scott. Allison found out who they’re targeting. It’s teachers. Philosophers. The darach is targeting teachers,” he said the moment he picked up.

“What? How do you know?”

“Allison and her dad, we tried to catch them, but they ran off. We know who they’re targeting,” Isaac said.

“Why were you with the Argents?” Scott said bewilderedly.

“We were following a lead,” Isaac said vaguely, now a little sheepish. “Just, go tell the others, it’s teachers.” He hung up before Scott could ask anymore questions.

“Come on, we’ve got to get to the school,” Allison stormed off.

“Wait, wait. You’re not going charging in there alone,” her father reached out to stop her.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming too, we’ve got to help Scott,” Isaac said firmly.

“Yeah, you’ll be a big help,” Mr. Argent sized him up with amusement. Why do people always seem to think I’m useless? Isaac thought angrily.

“You don’t get to be judgemental, dad. You’ve got some explaining to do, what the hell have you been doing?” Allison said.

“Tracking the killer, what did you think I was doing?” He said.

“Well, we sort of thought you were the killer,” Isaac said helpfully. Mr. Argent rolled his eyes and began picking up the shells from the encounter.

“You’ve been tracking the killer on your own this whole time?”Allison said skeptically.

“Yeah, and I was this close. Could’ve caught him if the two of you…” He sighed.

Allison was fuming, “so it’s my fault? That you’ve been lying to me for the past two months?”

“You wanna tally up the lies, Allison?” Mr. Argent said coldly. Isaac stepped back, deciding to stay out of a potentially dangerous Argent argument. “I don’t think you’re gonna come out ahead on that one.” Actually, considering the situation he should probably butt in.

“Hey, just a thought? Maybe right now isn’t the best time for a little family meeting?” He said pointedly. “There’s still one more teacher.”

“The recital.”

“Guess we’re going after all,” Allison said.

They piled into their respective cars and raced towards the high school. Isaac stayed quiet in the front seat as Allison fumed silently beside him, Mr Argent followed in his own car behind them. Isaac could feel the tension between them from down the road.

“You okay?” Isaac said carefully.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Allison’s voice was terse in response.

“I’m no stranger to daddy issues so if you want to talk about it-”

“Could we just not, right now?” Allison said with an annoyed and forced sort of laugh that almost scared Isaac more than when she had her knives.

“Alright, then.” Isaac muttered before slouching down in the seat. Damn Argents.

After several more minutes of speeding down the road and uncomfortable silence they pulled up outside the school. Allison sprinted inside, Isaac following. They entered the recital, Isaac coming in last to see Scott staring at them, Isaac stopped, feeling a bit guilty. He stared from Scott to Allison, before following her with an apologetic glance at Scott. He stood between the two Argents, watching the crowd carefully, waiting for something to go wrong like they always did. Scott and Stiles ran from the room, he considered going after them but it seemed better to stick with the Argents. A few minutes later a piercing scream filled his ears, he covered them and let out a gasp of pain, the twins seemed to be hearing the same thing. It stopped, only for something to happen on stage, the pianist collapsed in a spray of blood. Someone screamed. Isaac grabbed onto Mr. Argent’s arm.

“Allison!” He pulled away towards his daughter who was now running towards the stage. Isaac followed. Allison stopped in front of the body, whose throat was slashed by what looked like a piano string.

“Mistletoe,” Allison said softly, staring at the leaves mixed with the blood.

“What do we do now?” Isaac asked.

“We need to find the others, we need to talk to Scott,” Allison turned, heading outside with the panicked crowd into an oncoming storm.

“Allison!” Scott called, Stiles and Lydia behind him.

“The pianist was just murdered, she was another sacrifice-”

“Ms. Blake, she’s the Darach,” Scott said.

“And she took my dad,” Stiles said.

“I’m sorry, what? Our English teacher?” Isaac said incredulously.

“Yeah, the one who's been screwing Derek,” Stiles said.

“Come on, we need to get to Derek’s right now,” Scott said, heading for Stiles’ jeep. They sped off before Isaac and the Argents could follow.

“Come on, let’s try and figure out what happened with the pianist,” Mr. Argent turned and headed back into the school as the storm picked up around them.

 

“I’ll go talk to Lydia,” Allison turned off down a hallway and left Isaac with her father. Mr. Argent stared at him.

“Why were you running around with my daughter?” He asked.

“Because I didn’t want her trying to fight the Darach alone,” Isaac said. “Obviously.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, he stared at the grumpy hunter warily.

“Do you know where Scott and Stiles were going?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go try and call them,” he quickly walked away from the hunter.

Scott’s phone went to voicemail. “Scott, where are you? Allison and I can help, don’t try and take on the Ms. Blake alone.” He tried Derek. Voicemail. “Derek, it’s Ms. Blake, she’s the Darach, don’t trust her.” He hung up angrily. Why wouldn’t these idiots just pick up their damn phones when it’s important?!

Allison returned.

“I can’t get ahold of Derek or Scott,” he told her. “How’s Lydia?”

“She’s got bruising on her neck. They’re taking her to a hospital downtown because Beacon Memorial is being evacuated,” she said worriedly.

“The storm’s that bad?” He said, staring at the wind whipping the trees outside.

“It will be,” Allison turned to look outside. “And I overheard an EMT saying the backup generators might be too old to last if the power goes out.”

“Beacon Memorial?” Isaac spoke as if the name would change. Cora. His closest connection to a pack besides Scott and the closest thing he had to Boyd right now. “That’s where Cora is, right?”

“I’m taking the two of you home,” Allison’s dad butted in.

“No, I have to get to the hospital,” Isaac shook his head and turned to leave. He didn’t have a fucking car. All he could do was walk through all this. “I can’t leave Cora there with just Peter.” If he started going now, maybe if he ran he’d make it there within the hour, but he had to be careful, visibility would be shit with all this rain, and the wind might slow him down-

Mr Argent exchanged glances with his daughter. “Isaac,” he called back. Isaac stopped. “I’ll drive.”

A final rattle of thunder shook the building and the power cut out. Isaac walked back to them through the dark.

“Come on. The hospital might be out too,” he shifted on his feet and turned back to rush out the door, the Argents following a bit more reluctantly into the storm.  
Isaac sat in the back seat, his foot tapping anxiously as Mr. Argent drove through traffic from evacuations and slippery roads.

“Calm down, Isaac. We’ll get there,” Allison reached back and gently brushed against his arm. “What do you think Peter’s gonna do?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t trust him. Especially if Deucalion comes knocking, he would leave her in an instant,” Isaac muttered. “He’s killed people, Peter has. You were there for that part, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Allison said quietly, thinking back on the early days when she had no idea what was going on.

“Derek offered the bite. He gave us all a choice, Scott didn’t have one. Peter just… attacked him. That isn’t the kind of man I’m going to forgive very easily,” Isaac said forcefully. Allison stared back at him, unable to avoid the look of pity in her eyes that Isaac so despised.

They pulled into the empty hospital parking lot far sooner than legally possible and rushed towards the door.

“Looks like the evacuation is over,” Mr Argent shouted over the wind.

“Are you catching a scent?” Allison checked with the werewolf.

“No, not with the rain this heavy,” Isaac glanced back at the storm that strengthened its hold on the building. They entered the dim hospital, Isaac casting one last look at the forces of nature surrounding them.

The three of them walked slowly and quietly through the dark and deserted hospital, Isaac listened carefully for any sounds besides the echoes of the storm and creaking of the building. Mr. Argent moved with even more caution, as they rounded the front desk he cocked his gun.

“I’m gonna take that as a sign you’re a little worried,” Isaac whispered.

“Stay close to me,” Mr. Argent replied. Footsteps. Quiet, but definitely footsteps.

“I think I heard something,” Isaac said quickly.

“Where?” Allison whispered back.  
“Below us,” Isaac said, cautiously walking forward. He bent down, pressing his ear to the floor. Two pairs of feet, running downstairs. “Come on,” Isaac stood up and began to follow the sound, the Argents behind him, weapons raised.

“Slow down, Isaac. We don’t know who it is,” Mr. Argent called to him, his gun at the ready. He took the lead, checking his gun as they neared the corner where Isaac heard them. Two faces appeared around the bend and Mr. Argent raised his weapon. Scott and Ms. McCall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapters are going to overlap a lot with the end of part 1 of season 3, which means a lot of the actions and dialogue will be old news, but certain moments and more importantly Isaac's thoughts and feelings will be new. Hope you all like it!


	8. Chapter 8

“What’re you guys doing here?” Scott asked.

“Trying to help you!” Allison said.

“What, did you think we were just gonna go home and twiddle our thumbs?” Isaac said. “What the hell is going on?”

“Deucalion and his pack are here. They’re trying to capture Ms. Blake,” Scott said.

“Okay, so let them?” Isaac said.

“We need her. She’s the only one who can help us save Cora and Sheriff Stilinski. She’s stuck in an elevator with Derek when Deucalion took out the power,” Scott told them as they headed to a neighboring operating room.

“So they’re essentially trapped?” Mr. Argent said.

“Yeah, right,” Scott said.

“But there’s no way of getting them back out without turning the power back on,” Isaac pointed out, optimistic as ever.

“But wait, wait wait, if the powers back on they’re gonna hear the elevator moving, right?” Melissa said anxiously.

“And they’ll be on Jennifer and Derek as soon as it stops,” Scott continued. “We can’t get in a fight with them,” Scott said forcefully.

“You’ve got us now,” Mr. Argent nodded at Isaac and his daughter.

“It’s too much to risk,” Scott said intently, always so worried about safety first, except for his own. “They want her dead, and if she dies there’s nothing we can do for Stiles’s dad or Cora.”

“I don’t even think I know which teacher this is,” Mr. Argent said, frustration bleeding through.  
“She’s-She’s the one with the brown hair,” Isaac pointed out quietly, “she’s kinda hot.” They all stared at him. “No, it’s just-just an observation,” he said sheepishly.

Several sighs of contempt came from the group. Allison instead stared at something behind them. Her reflection.  
“I’ve got an idea,” she said.

“What would that be?” Mr. Argent asked.

“Get them to chase me instead,” she said firmly.

“No, no way,” Mr. Argent shook his head.

“Just long enough for you to get them out, they won’t bother with fighting me if they do catch me, they’re looking for Jennifer,” Allison pushed.

“Or they kill you, regardless,” Mr. Argent snapped back.

“I think Allison can take care of herself,” Isaac put in.

“Stop talking,” Mr. Argent shot out at him. Isaac put his arms up defensively.

“I think Allison is right. We need a distraction,” Scott said reluctantly.

“Alright, so I’ll run by the twins so they focus on me instead,” Allison said certainly, as if Scott saying it settled the matter.

“We still need a way out besides the ambulance. A getaway car,” Melissa said.

“I’ll drive. We can use Mr. Argent’s car,” Isaac said.

“No, but we need to do more than get away, we need more than one distraction, we need to cut them off, even just for a bit. Isaac, if Allison drove the twins out to the front of the building,and her and Mr. Argent distracted them, do you think you could get Cora and Stiles?” Scott asked.

“If I knew when they were out of the way, yeah,” Isaac shrugged.

“I know how to turn the power on, so I’ll be the one to go up to the roof,” Melissa said.

“Mom, it’s too dangerous, what if you run into one of them?” Scott worried.

“Scott, I’m doing this. I’m your parent, this is my decision,” Ms. McCall said pointedly.

“Alright, someone text Derek, we have to get going before they find them,” Allison checked her bow and headed for the door.

“Alright, here we go then,” Isaac said with a huff before following the wild young Argent, car keys now in hand.

He parted from the group at the end of the hall and headed for the front of the building, his whole body tense and listening for the sound of the twins coming at him. He made it to Mr. Argent’s car out front and pulled around to the parking garage, but he couldn’t go to the ambulance, not yet. Not with the twins still patrolling. Allison called him once she was set up.

“You ready?” She said.

Isaac took a deep breath, “yeah.”

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Allison teased.

“Do I look nervous?” He said, as coolly as possible.

“No, not at all,” she said unconvincingly.

“Did he look nervous?” Isaac heard Mr. Argent ask in the background.

“Terrified,” Allison responded.

“Yeah, I can still hear you, very,very, clearly,” Isaac said, annoyed.

“Just go as soon as you see them, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I got it,” Isaac said, his nerves bleeding through.

He just had to hope that the twins wouldn’t catch him in his rescue mission, because he doubted he and Peter, since obviously Stiles and the dying Cora would be no help, could be any match for the psychotic twin monster. God they were in such deep shit. Suddenly the sound of three pairs of footsteps pounded down the hall, Allison followed by the twins raced past the screen, heart racing, he threw the phone aside and pulled quickly into the now definitely empty parking garage. He slammed the breaks outside of the ambulance, knowing precious seconds were ticking away. He rushed out of the car and opened the back doors. “Alright, come on! Come on, come on!” He said panickedly, shifting restlessly as they carried Cora out of the back. 

“I got her, get the door!” Peter said, carrying Cora carefully. She did not look good.

Stiles was frozen, staring at something in the ambulance.

“Stiles! Let’s go!” Isaac all but shouted at him. Stiles didn’t move for a moment. Then, somehow making the worst decision thus far in Isaac knowing him, he took off running in the opposite direction. “Stiles!” He shouted.

He got into the driver's seat, staring tensely behind them.

“Drive, you idiot,” Peter said.

“I-I can’t, not without Scott,” Isaac’s voice shook.

A violent banging came from behind them. The twins.

“Come on, you want the Argent’s dead too?” Peter snapped. “Make a choice!” Isaac was breathing very hard now. He couldn’t leave Scott. He couldn’t leave Scott. The twins were in sight, “oh, for the love of god, go!”

Feeling like his limbs were barely his own, he hit the gas, grimacing all the while. “All right!” He shouted back, reversing as fast as he could, making the twins scatter. He tore out of the garage and towards the Argents.

He pulled around to the front, turning back at the way they’d came. “Do you see the twins?”

“No,” Peter said, still holding his niece, “but I see the Argents.”  
Isaac recalled burying Allison’s Aunt Kate, and the fact that Peter was responsible for that. “Not to bring up uncomfortable memories, but wasn’t the last time you saw them the time you killed Kate then they burned you alive, hm?” He looked back to see Peter had abandoned the car. Shit. He scrambled out.

“Where are the others?” Allison called out to him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Scott and Stiles went back for Derek and Jennifer, I had to get Cora out.” He took a deep breath, staring around for Peter and instead seeing another car pull up beside them. Derek.

“Where’s Scott and Stiles?” Allison asked him.

“Stiles is still at the hospital, he’s gonna hold off the cops for us,” he called back to her, still navigating around the car to pull Cora out of the back seat. “We have to go right now.”  
“What about Scott and Melissa?” Mr. Argent asked.

Isaac went to open the back door and help get Cora in the back seat. Derek kept explaining, “Jennifer took Melissa.”

Isaac’s heart stopped. Everyone froze for a moment as they took this in. Scott and him, they’d promised to protect her. Oh god, Jennifer was going to slit her throat. He felt panic rising as he was overwhelmed by all the kindness Melissa had done for him and the end she might meet. She’d taken him in, fed him, held him when he had his nightmares, she’d been the closest thing to a kind parent he’d had since his mom died.

“What about Scott?” Allison shook Isaac out of his momentary grief. Yes, what about Scott? They had to fix this, and to do that they needed Scott. Derek didn’t answer. “Derek, where’s Scott?!” Thank god for determined Argents asking the right questions.  
Derek turned back to look at them, something surprisingly like pity, even remorse in his eyes. “He left with Deucalion.”

“What?” Isaac gasped. Scott left with that psychopath?!

“He thinks he’ll be able to help him find Melissa,” Derek didn’t look at them and instead got in the car, focusing on Cora.

Isaac bottled down the mixture of anger and fear that began to consume him after hearing this news, and got in the car next to him. The Argents returned to their car, going off to do who knows what.

“Where are we going?” Isaac asked him.

“Home. We’re taking Cora back to the loft,” Derek said, his voice a void of all emotions. Home, sure. Bullshit.

“Okay, then we go after Jennifer, right? We find Melissa?” Isaac asked. Derek didn’t respond and Isaac resigned himself to spending the rest of the drive in silence.

They carried Cora to the elevator, the grimness between them only grew as they held her limp body between them. Derek carefully laid her down in his bed, staring at her blackened, gasping lips with something torn between resignation and determination.

“She’s dying, isn’t she?” Isaac said.

“I don’t know.”

“So what are you gonna do?” He asked. They had to do something. They couldn’t just sit there and waste time when so many lives were at risk.

Derek took a deep breath, “I don’t know.”

Isaac felt his anger and resentment returning. As well as a sharp desperation. He paced agitatedly. “You wanna figure something out? Because while Scott and Stiles were out there, trying to help people from being killed, you were in here. Rolling around in the sheets with the actual killer!” Isaac spat. He was so angry. And afraid. Afraid too. Derek wouldn’t even look at him. “Do you get how many people she’s killed?” Isaac felt his skin burn with bitterness. He had protected her. Isaac had shielded her with his body from the twins and Kali while they murdered Boyd. “Erica and Boyd are dead, Cora is dying, and you are doing nothing!” He couldn’t help but shout at him now, because how the hell could Derek just sit there? Just stare at Cora and do nothing?

He couldn’t stop himself now, he couldn’t stop these cruel words from pouring out at a man who thought his sister was about to die. Because Derek had broken so many promises. To keep them safe, to fix things, to be the alpha he promised to be. Not. Just. Sitting there.

“Why’d you do this to us, Derek?” Isaac couldn’t stop his voice from breaking anymore than he could stop himself from tearing into Derek with his words. He thought about the wound Derek’s teeth had left in his skin and how much kinder it had seemed than the wounds his father gave him. “Was it all about the power?” He thought back on the confident dark leader with the red eyes. The one who had promised him safety. “Were you bored?” He thought about the man who had kissed Erica even though they all knew it was a little wrong and the one who had broken his arm just to prove a point. He stepped closer, just wishing his alpha would look him in the eye. The alpha who had said he would never see his father again, that he’d have a new family. The one who had kicked him out and done nothing to stop his father from tormenting him in his dreams. “Were you lonely?”

Derek finally looked at him. “Maybe.”

Isaac looked away. He headed for the door, he was still just as angry as he was before but he was done trying to get help from this broken down Hale. Not when Scott had gone so far astray. He needed him. Melissa did even more so.

“I told Cora I wouldn’t leave,” Derek said. What a bullshit excuse. He wasn’t doing anything to help her. He was just waiting for her to die. “I’ll help the others when I figure out how to help her.” Help her how?! That anger just wouldn’t stop coming out of Isaac in waves.

“There’s no time!” He shouted. Melissa and Scott weighed heavily on his shoulders. The sacrifices they’d made for him and the sacrifices they were soon to be a part of, like it or not. “The full moon’s coming. The Sheriff and Melissa are gonna be dead, so I’m gonna try and help them.” Scott or no Scott, he had to do something. “You can sit here and perfect the art of doing nothing,” he spat the words out finally, before slamming the door behind him.

Tearing into Derek hadn’t made him feel any better, but after weeks of anger and rejection from him he had to say something to get back at him, even if it didn’t mean anything. Of course, now he had to figure out what to do. Almost on instinct, he headed to the McCalls. Feeling that the only difference between now and when he’d walked there all those weeks ago was that it had been raining then. He was almost out of the city when he realized with a sharpness in his chest that the house would be empty. That it would stay that way unless he did something.


	9. Chapter 9

The only players left he could count on it seemed were the Argents. Go figure. With a resigned sigh, he began the long walk to the Argent’s apartment for the second time. This time he took the elevator, pleasantly surprised to find their front door unlocked. Guess considering everything going on a break in was the least of their worries. He heard voices from the office, the two Argents were arming up and Stiles was there too.

“I can’t shoot a gun or use a crossbow, but, well, I’m getting pretty good with these,” Isaac flicked his claws out, all that rage ready to be channelled into something good for a change. Preferably into Jennifer’s throat.

“Perfect timing. We’re going back to the bank, dad thinks she’ll go back there,” weapons in hand, Allison headed for the door.

“Since I can’t use a gun, crossbow, or claws. I’ll just stay here. Talk to Lydia,” Stiles said, voice dripping with snark as per usual. It was dampened though, by the fear in his eyes. By the fact that his father was missing and soon to be dead.

“We’ll get them back, Stiles,” Allison said. She turned to Isaac. “All of them.”

They drove off to the bank, Allison interrupting the tension with the worst possible question. “Where’s Derek?”

“With Cora,” Isaac said.

“Did he figure out a way to help her?”

“No.”

“So is he going to come help us later?”

“No.”

“Great.”

They pulled up to the bank and followed Mr. Argent through the abandoned halls. Isaac shivered, recalling his brief time captured here, his dead pack, and the almost violent state of hypnosis later on. This was an evil place. No doubt about it. They approached the vault, Isaac felt more tension rising through him. He was eager to fight, but also terrified. They entered. Slowly. It was dark and seemingly:

“It’s empty,” Allison said.

“Be careful anyway,” Mr. Argent said seriously. Mr. Argent snapped out one of their weapons. It pulsed with electricity. A stun baton.

“I thought you only used those on werewolves,” Isaac stared at him warily.

“I do,” he said. Isaac felt every muscle in his body tense as pain wracked through him, he stared up at Allison, eyes wide before collapsing to the ground.

He couldn’t move, there was a ringing in his ears. He could see Mr. Argent move to the center of the vault. He dropped his gun. Jennifer entered the vault.  
Then, he was gone.

Allison pulled against the handcuffs holding her to the fence. Isaac, as per usual it seemed, found himself unable to move even as Allison panicked. After several painfully long minutes spent numb and not completely conscious, Isaac managed to pull himself to his feet. He leaned against the fence, taking deep breaths. Isaac leaned closer to her, pulling at the handcuffs. The chain broke easily. Allison didn’t. She fell forward into him slightly. He held onto her, tried to steady her and she did the same for him. Isaac thought of Scott. Then he thought of Allison.

“Why did he do that?” Allison said, her voice betraying how hurt and afraid she was.

“I don’t know,” he said back so softly. He stared into her eyes, wishing for some way to help her. “We need to go.” Allison didn’’t move. “Okay? We need help.” From who he didn’t know yet. Derek was useless, Scott was gone. There were no other fighters left.

Allison held onto his arm so tightly. He stared at it. He thought about Scott. They had other worries right now. “Allison-” he took another shaky breath. How the hell were they going to deal with this? With any of it? “Allison we have to go.”

Allison seemed near tears. The brave wild hunter seemed so defeated. She stared deeply into his eyes and there was so much pain between them. “They’re all gonna die.” Great. He was going to have to be the strong one, worse, he had to try and be positive. Allison couldn’t cope on her own right now. “Aren’t they?” How could he comfort her? What the hell could he say when all he could think was that she was right? He let out his own fear in a shaky breath and did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled her close and held her. They hugged each other and trembled because they were kids. They were too young and too alone and had no way to stop what was coming.

They stood there for too long, they wasted time, but they also needed that moment. Just to fall apart for a few minutes and lean on one another. Yet they also needed to do something. Sure, all their parents, well, all his friend’s parents, had been taken but by god they wouldn’t be entirely helpless.

“What do we do?” Allison said. The strength that always came from her voice was returning, not much but enough to fight back.

“We get together whoever we can,” Isaac said thoughtfully. “Stiles and Lydia. I think they’re all we got now.”

They turned to leave the vault, Isaac managing to find the words to text Stiles and tell him that the last sacrifice was taken. That it seemed all the more certain that his father was a goner. He tried not to think about the fact that Melissa would share that fate.

“We can’t take on Jennifer and Deucalion with just Lydia and Stiles,” Allison said incredulously. “We don’t even know how to take on either of them!”

Isaac thought for a moment. Deaton. “I don’t know if I have anyone that can fight with us, but I think I know who can help us find them at least. Come on, we got to get to the animal clinic. Deaton knows things.” He ran to the Argent’s car, suddenly grateful that Allison had the keys.

“I can call Deaton,” Isaac had gotten his number from Scott, who had decided it was important he had someone to go to for help besides him and his mom.

“Hello?” Dr. Deaton’s voice sounded so calm. It felt strange after all the chaos of the last few hours.

“Dr. Deaton. Jennifer took Mr. Argent. She has all three sacrifices and we need to find them. Can you help us?” Isaac said, his voice breaking as he felt some of the responsibility lifted from his shoulders.

“Isaac? Mr. Argent is gone? Where are you? Where are the others?” Deaton seemed to struggle with processing this onslaught of bad news, but he still remained steady. Like always.

“I’m with Allison. We’re coming to the clinic. I think Lydia and Stiles are still at the school,” Isaac explained.

“I can get them. Where’s Scott?”

“With Deucalion,” Isaac said quietly.

“Of course he is,” Deaton said resignedly. “We’ll meet you at the clinic. I promise we can still figure this out, Isaac.”

“Okay,” Isaac breathed softly.

Isaac hung up. His fists clenched tightly as waves of anxiety refused to leave his body. Allison’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel and Isaac pretended not to see her eyes watering. If Deaton believed they still had a chance, they still had a chance.


	10. Chapter 10

They arrived first to the animal clinic, the front door was unlocked and the inside was deserted. Allison opened the gate by the counter so he could pass through the mountain ash that lined the rest of the building. After that all they could do was wait in the back room. Isaac leaned against the back wall, his jaw tense and his hands fidgeting restlessly. Allison was even worse, she paced the room, her breathing just too fast to be normal. They both jumped as the back door was unlocked and Deaton entered, followed by Lydia and Stiles.

“We need to find the nemeton,” Stiles said the moment he entered.

 

“The tree?” Allison said.

“Yes. If Jennifer is keeping them somewhere it has to be there,” Dr. Deaton nodded thoughtfully.

“It has to be on a telluric current, or maybe even at the axis of two, or where they all intersect,” Stiles said sharply. “I just know it’s where Derek took Paige to die.”

Allison leaned forward, “my dad and Gerard were there once, but Gerard said it was years ago, and he couldn’t remember where it was. And my dad obviously isn’t here to tell us now,” she said bitterly.

“Yeah, mine either,” Stiles muttered in agreement.

“Then how do we find this place?” Isaac pushed them back on topic. The three teenagers all turned to Deaton, who seemed deep in thought.

“There might be away,” Deaton said grimly. “But it’s dangerous.” He turned to face them, “we’re gonna need Scott.”

“Scott?” Isaac scoffed. “He ran off with Deucalion for a reason, how do you expect to get him back?”

“We have to. We cannot do this without him,” Deaton said. “I’ll explain more once we get him back with us.”

“We’ll get him back,” Stiles said determinedly.

“Good. Stiles, you try and call him. You two,” he looked to Isaac and Lydia. “You’ll need to get three of the baths out of the back room. And ice. Lots and lots of ice.”

“Oh great,” Isaac muttered. Not another ice bath.

“Don’t worry. This time it isn’t for you,” he glanced at Allison and Stiles. “The three of you. Allison, Stiles, and Scott, will need to, in a sense, take the place of your parents to find them.”

“You want to kill the three of us instead?!” Stiles said incredulously.

“Temporarily,” Deaton shrugged.

“If it’s the only way, we’re doing it,” Allison nodded firmly.

“I mean of course we’re doing it, but shit. That’s intense stuff,” Stiles shivered a bit, gearing himself up as if he were about to die right then.

“There are other implications I intend to explain to Scott. First, we need to get him,” Deaton said. “Allison, I need you to find something. An object that connects you to your father. Something significant. You will too, Stiles, but we should get Scott first.”

Stiles called Scott, who actually picked up, and explained everything that had happened. Deaton pulled Allison aside and told her something, Isaac tried not to eavesdrop but with his hearing he heard bits and pieces. Things about a darkness that would follow her. That would follow the three of them after this was done. Isaac shivered. “We need you, man. We can’t do this without you,” Stiles pleaded with Scott on the phone. Scott caved almost easily and Deaton and Stiles left to get him. Allison went back to her apartment to get whatever object she needed.

“Come on,” he said awkwardly to Lydia. She seemed tense. They hadn’t exactly hung out together or anything. The two of them began pulling out the large metal tubs from the storage room at the back of the clinic. He did most of the heavy lifting, super strength and all, but Lydia held her own determinedly. Isaac suddenly felt a strong pang of guilt over their attempts to kill her that past year.

“I know this is probably the worst time to say this, but I’m sorry that I was such a dick before,” Isaac said, just as awkward as ever. “And for… well. For planning to kill you. I’m sure they told you about all that when they filled you in on everything.”

“Yeah, they told me,” she said rather tersely. He didn’t blame her of course. “Granted, you thought I was a murderous lizard thing at the time, so.”  
Isaac chuckled, “yeah, guess that explains it.” He frowned. “No, but really. That year… I went overboard. I was aggressive, hell, I was cruel to all of you just because I had never had any control before. But that doesn’t excuse it. So, really, I am sorry.”

“Really, it’s okay. You were going through a lot. You’ve always been going through a lot, it seems like,” Lydia said. Her lips were pursed and she stared off into space intently for a moment, thinking.

“Yeah, well. I’m working on it. On all of it. The McCalls. Scott, Melissa… they’re getting me help. I’m seeing a therapist. Either way, the way I acted, I still stand by a lot of what I did, but I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to all of you. And I really shouldn’t have tried to kill you,” he said with a nervous sort of laugh. They’d stopped unloading the tubs minutes ago and Lydia was still staring off into space. “Lydia?”

“I’m sorry too,” she said carefully, still not looking directly at him.

“For what?” Isaac said confusedly. He thought hard, what could she be sorry for? “For not going on a date with me freshman year?” He laughed.

“No,” Lydia’s voice was soft. She turned to look at him. “I spent a lot of nights at Jackson’s. When we were dating, I had a key. I’d go over there almost every other night.” Isaac still wasn’t following her. “I heard things,” that look of profound sadness, of pity entered Lydia’s eyes as she looked at him. He understood now.

“From your house. Things breaking. Yelling,” she looked away again. “Screaming.” Isaac didn’t say anything. “Not often, and Jackson told me not to worry about it, he said you and your dad just argued a lot. He told me not to worry about it and…” Lydia lost that look of sadness and distance. Now she seemed almost angry. “And I believed him!” She tried to calm herself. “So, I’m sorry for that. Because believing Jackson isn’t an excuse for the fact that on some level, I knew. And I never told anyone, I never even thought about it.”

A year ago - hell, months ago - Isaac would’ve felt so angry at her. He would’ve taken back his apology and made some biting comment and then he would’ve ignored her and spent the rest of their time together in brooding and aggressive silence. Not anymore. Sure, he was still angry, most definitely, but he had more important things to be angry about than a teenage girl who listened to her boyfriend and didn’t call the police.

“It’s okay, Lydia. You didn’t know,” he said softly. She didn’t seem consoled. “And even if you did, you didn’t understand. Not really, do you know what I mean? You were a kid, Lydia. You still are a kid. I’ve been so mad at a lot of people. I still am, really. If I counted up all the people who should’ve helped me but didn’t I’d wind up hating this whole town,” he didn’t tell her that on some level he did hate this whole town, “but I’m getting better. And… I’m glad we’re… I’m glad we’re friends.” Him, Isaac Lahey calling Lydia Martin his friend. Things really had changed.

Lydia let a flicker of a smile show before returning to moving the tubs and he left her alone to go get ice. The others returned and Deaton surveyed their work.

“I need to add some herbs, things to ensure this all goes smoothly,” he circled the shelves to find what he was looking for. Isaac still had a nagging feeling that Deaton was a witch of some sort. “Start pouring in the ice.”

Isaac, Lydia, and Deaton began to fill up the tubs while the three new sacrifices paced anxiously.

“All right,” Deaton said finally. “What did you bring?”

“Um, I got my dad’s badge,” Stiles spoke up, his voice a little shaky. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a bit,” he seemed to need to ramble. To justify his choice. “Still doesn’t look great.”

“It doesn’t need to look good if it has meaning,” Deaton said gently. He always seemed to know what to say.

Isaac looked to the object Allison was fiddling with in her hands. Whoa. “Is that an actual silver bullet?” He asked. She smiled fondly at it.

“My dad made it. It’s kind of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code,” she explained. Isaac tried to push away the fact that that code basically told them to kill werewolves. Allison was trying to be better than all that. She folded the bullet into her fist.

“Scott?” Deaton turned to him.

“My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital,” Scott said. Isaac was sharply reminded that at one point, Scott had a dad. Isaac wondered what the bastard did to get kicked out of the McCall house, or worse what the hell could’ve pushed him to leave his family. “She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.” An unusual choice, to pick an object that is a remnant of something painful in their family, although, Isaac supposed, what was painful in the McCall house was very different from what was painful in the Lahey’s.

“Okay,” Deaton pulled him out of his musing. “The three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you’re essentially, well…” he paused. “Dead. But it’s not just someone to hold you under, it needs to be someone who can pull you back. Someone that has a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether.” Isaac stared at the three of them, wondering how any of them could care about him enough to come back to life for him. Definitely not Stiles.

Allison and Lydia exchanged nervous smiles. Isaac glanced at Scott, maybe he could do it for him, but then who would hold down Stiles?

“Lydia, you go with Stiles,” Deaton said. Ah, that made sense, Isaac supposed. But Allison and Scott couldn’t hold down each other so-

“Are you sure? I mean, Scott and I both have to go under,” Allison was thinking the same thing it seemed.

Deaton looked between the two of them knowingly. Isaac looked to Allison. She looked to him. Oh. Scott stared at the two of them. He was hurt. Isaac felt it. Allison turned to Scott.

“It’s okay,” Scott said softly. Isaac knew it wasn’t. And guilt weighed within him as the trio prepared for their momentary deaths. Scott went over to Deaton.

The three of them pulled of their jackets, Isaac taking Allison’s for her, feeling hyper aware of Scott across the room. Shoes came off next. Isaac shivered on behalf of them, remembering the strange painfulness that came with the ice before the numbness set in. Allison let her hair down, bullet in hand, and stepped up to the tub. She, strongest among them of course, stepped in first. She let out a gasp of shock that Isaac understood all too well. Amid gasps of pain the three of them sunk into the water, objects held tightly.

“By the way, uh,” Stiles spoke up. “If I don’t make it back and you do, you should probably know something.” Stiles shivered. “Your dad’s in town.” Shit.

Now for the hard part. The three of them were in the baths, and now Isaac had to hold someone he cared about under. He shoved his self pity aside, knowing they had to deal with the real difficulties. Isaac stepped up beside Lydia. He put his hands on Allison’s already freezing shoulders. She looked up at him. So much determination and trust in her eyes. She had to come back. They all did. He pushed her under. Both he and Lydia turned to Deaton, looking for some sort of justification for the fact that they were holding their friends, their maybe more than friends, really, underneath the water for much longer than they should be. Allison hardly even struggled.

“It’s in their hands now,” Deaton said quietly.

He let go and went to dry of his hands. Isaac shook the water off of his. They were freezing. He didn’t want to think about the state Allison was in right now. A few minutes, Deaton had said. They would be dead for only a few minutes.

“How are they supposed to come back?” Isaac asked softly. That part had never be clarified. He didn’t see a defibrillator anywhere.

“If all goes well, if everything I put in the water guides them back to consciousness correctly, they should return on their own,” Deaton said carefully.

“On their own?” Isaac said sharply. “What, their hearts are just supposed to start beating again?”

“Isaac,” Lydia chastised him, but she had the same fear in her eyes as he did.

“Trust me, I’ve done everything I can for them, we just have to trust that they’ll find their way back to us,” even Deaton seemed afraid.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Lydia hang out (???)

Deaton’s words felt worthless in the coming hours. Over five passed with nothing and the three bodies in the water seemed truly dead.

“This can’t be right, we have to do something,” Isaac stood and moved towards the baths.

“No,” Deaton stopped him sharply. “We cannot wake them, if we return their bodies to the living world before their souls return, we’ll never get them back.” Isaac felt a chill go down his spine knowing what he had almost done.

“What do we do, Dr. Deaton?” He asked softly.

“We wait. I had hoped that we would be lucky and they would only be gone for a short while, but I suppose these things take time,” Deaton frowned.

“So, this isn’t a bad thing?” Lydia asked.

“Not necessarily, we just have to wait, alright?” Deaton tried to reassure them.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing that,” Isaac paced anxiously.

“There’s nothing you can do, Isaac,” Deaton wasn’t really helping.

“Their parents could already be dead!” He snapped.

“No, Isaac. She needs them alive until the full moon rises,” Deaton said calmly.

“Yeah, and it’s rising tomorrow night. Tonight, really!” He said, noting that they had been awake almost to dawn.

“Fine, if you feel the need to do something, go get a change of clothes for the three of them,” Deaton said tiredly. 

“We can get clothes for Stiles and Scott from the McCall house, you have a key right?” Lydia seemed relieved that they had been set a task.

“Yeah, but what about Allison?” Isaac asked. “I don’t mind breaking in but…”

“You’ve gotten into her apartment before, you can apologize for breaking in when she wakes up,” Lydia said certainly. Not if, when.

“Yeah, we’ll do that,” Isaac nodded. 

Both of them refused to properly admit to the chance that their friends might not come back. Isaac would be the last werewolf, the last fighter, left on their side. Derek hadn’t said a word and Isaac doubted Lydia or Deaton secretly were master hunters. As if he could take on Deucalion or the Darach on his own. They had to wake up. He needed Scott. He needed Allison. Both of them for reasons besides their use in a fight.

“Come on, we don’t have anything better to do,” Lydia sighed before heading outside, the Argent car keys in hand as Deaton had driven her to the animal clinic.

“Call us if anything changes,” Isaac told Deaton before following her into the backlot

“I’m driving,” Lydia said a little pompously. Isaac didn’t take it personally anymore, it was just Lydia being Lydia.

“Fine,” Isaac shrugged, slouching into the passenger side.

Lydia fiddled with the radio as she drove but couldn’t manage to settle on anything. Isaac tapped his foot quickly. Awkward silence occured besides the noise of both. Lydia stopped messing with the radio, leaving it on a station playing pop music.

“So you have a key to Scott’s?” Lydia said after the quiet got too unbearable.

“Yeah, I sort of live there,” Isaac said sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean that you didn’t,” Lydia snapped back.

“Yeah well, technically I’m homeless,” Isaac said with a half laugh.

“Don’t you say that!” Lydia said sharply, surprising him. “The McCalls are taking care of you, don’t pretend they aren’t.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Isaac stammered.

“Well cut the brooding bullshit and accept that you’re with good people now,” Lydia said tersely.

“I know,” he muttered as they pulled up to the McCall house and parked on the street. Dark and empty. “Come on, I don’t like the idea of someone finding us here,” Isaac said before getting out of the car and heading up to the door.

They entered the dark entryway, Isaac unwilling to turn on the lights and Lydia insistent on turning them on. They wandered up to Scott’s room, where the bed was made and empty. Sure Scott had been crashing in Isaac’s room for half the nights but it still felt strange to see the room so abandoned. Isaac grabbed some clean clothes from his stuff and turned to go, Lydia was staring at the empty and silent house with a somewhat distant expression.

“Lydia?” Isaac said quietly.

“Stiles’ house is gonna be empty like this too, isn’t it?” She said.

“Yeah, and Allison’s, but that’s why we’re doing this, right?” Isaac said, unsure if he was consoling her or not.

“Yeah,” Lydia bit her lip. “Come on, let’s go.”

They headed downstairs and if it weren’t for the light on in the entryway they wouldn’t have noticed the front door opening. Isaac froze, claws already out. It was someone he didn’t recognize, a tall man in a suit, he got ready to take him out.

“Stop! Stop, that’s Scott’s dad!” Lydia whispered and pulled him back up the stairs, her arms loaded with Scott’s clothes.

“What’s he doing here?!” Isaac hissed before heading quietly down the hall. His hearing picked up on Mr. McCall wandering the first floor.

“We just gotta get out of here,” Lydia hissed. “How are we getting out of here?”

“Come on,” Isaac muttered, he headed back to his room, and then to the window.

“Nope. No, I am not breaking my ankles,” Lydia shook her head.

“Come on, I’ll jump first and I can catch you,” Isaac said, pulling open the window. Lydia stared at him doubtfully. “I can at least break your fall.”

“So I have to carry you to the car?” Lydia huffed. They didn’t have time for this, Mr. McCall had returned to the entry hall, he was either going to go outside and see them trying to leave or he’d go upstairs and catch them.

“I’ll heal,” Isaac was already halfway out the window. “Toss the clothes down, don’t try and jump with them.”

With that, he hung from the edge of the window. He paused before, with a tense breath, dropping down onto the bushes in the yard. He didn’t land very elegantly. He bit onto his hand to stop himself from crying out or shouting fuck as he felt his left ankle heal from what seemed like a minor break. Still with a slight limp, he stood and spoke softly up to Lydia.

“It’s really not that bad!” He lied.

With a huff Lydia threw Scott’s clothes out the window, which hit the ground about as gracefully as Isaac had, and climbed out herself. She hung from the window sill.

“You better not look up my dress,” Lydia hissed.

“Yeah, like that’s my priority right now,” was his retort.

“You better catch me,” Lydia was stalling, but Isaac could hear Mr. McCall climbing the stairs.

“Just fall! I’ll catch you,” he said impatiently.

With a barely muffled squeal Lydia let go and Isaac dived forward to catch her. She kicked him in the face with her heels and knocked him onto the grass, but he caught her.

“Fucking hell, Lydia,” Isaac muttered, rubbing his cheek which would be red for the next few minutes.

“Just put me down,” Lydia huffed.

Isaac obliged and collected Scott’s clothes from the ground. At which point they basically sprinted for the car, feeling all too lucky. As they pulled away Isaac saw Scott’s bedroom light flick on. Mr. McCall’s return unsettled him.

They drove across the neighborhood to the Stilinski house, which was just like the McCall’s, empty. Isaac hesitated outside the door, he knew how to break into Allison’s window without causing damage, but he wasn’t sure how to get into Stiles’.

“Let me,” Lydia said with a scoff. She dug behind a potted plant on the porch and pulled out a key. Isaac stared at her, “I told Stiles to keep a spare key, he kept locking himself out and calling me for help,” she rolled her eyes fondly.

“Of course he did,” Isaac huffed.

They entered the empty home and while the house was clean and didn’t smell bad Isaac could definitely tell only men lived here. Lydia walked confidently through the house. Considering how supposedly platonic Lydia and Stiles’ relationship was she knew the house well. They entered Stiles’ room which was covered in papers and was generally dishevelled although not quite messy. Lydia turned up her nose at Stiles’ messy closet. Isaac grabbed clothes at random and headed out.

“That was much easier,” Lydia said, before heading closer to the city, to Allison’s apartment.

“Okay, I can go up the fire escape and get to her window, you go up to the front door and I’ll let you in once I get there, should only take me like ten minutes to climb,” Isaac said.  
Lydia headed off to the lobby while Isaac took to the side of the building where he jumped up to pull down the fire escape. At which point he began the climb up several flights of stairs, to the second to the top. He shuffled carefully along the ledge near her window, it really wasn’t far, and the ledge was wide, but it still was nerve wracking and caused his claws to sink into the building. He reached her window and, grateful to find it unbolted as usual, climbed inside.

To find Lydia going through Allison’s closet.

“Front door was unlocked,” Lydia said with a somewhat smug shrug.

“Great,” Isaac said exasperatedly.

Lydia had taken her sweet time going through Allison’s wardrobe and despite the time she’d spent looking while Isaac made a fool of himself, she still spent another five minutes looking for a specific cardigan. Not like they had anywhere to be, Isaac thought, staring grimly at the almost risen sun. He had been hoping for a call from Deaton at some point, that they would’ve come back by now.

“All done! Let’s go,” Lydia didn’t seem quite happy, obviously she was still just as tense as he was, but she seemed calmer, as if the simple familiarity of going through clothes had calmed her. Isaac reflected on that calmness she had gained through it and wished he had thought to get a scarf before leaving the McCall house.

“Maybe they’ll be up when we get back,” Lydia said as they headed to the car.

“No, Deaton would’ve called,” Isaac said.

It was now daytime fully, and their time spent gathering clothes for their friends felt wasted, but there was nothing better for them to do. There was nothing else that they could do. They returned to the animal clinic and Isaac couldn’t help but hope that they would find their friends alive and well.

“Things went well? Any sign of…?” Deaton seemed unsure if he should say Deucalion or the Darach.

“No, but we saw Scott’s dad. He was in their house,” Isaac said uneasily.

“He’s an FBI agent, I don’t like him meddling, especially considering everything that’s been going on,” Deaton frowned.

“Anything change?” Lydia asked.

“No, but the full moon rises in ten hours, I don’t know what we’ll do if they don’t come back to us,” Deaton’s doubt was more concerning than the oncoming threat.

“Christ,” Isaac cursed. “How are we supposed to do this alone?” His panic was bleeding through.

“Calm down, Isaac. We’re not alone yet,” Deaton sighed.

They returned to their useless anxiety, now that there wasn’t any busy work to fetch across town. Barely another hour passed. Isaac felt a little ill, Lydia seemed to notice.

“You feeling alright?” Lydia asked.

“Fine, just a little dizzy,” he muttered.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Lydia’s concern surprised him. Anyone’s concern seemed to surprise him.

“Uh, before the recital, the morning of,” Isaac frowned.

“Great, so almost days ago,” Lydia scoffed. “I’m gonna go get some food.”

“I’m coming, I can’t take sitting here,” Isaac followed.

“I’ll just wait here then,” Deaton said, seeming tired but well adjusted to the impatient teenagers he now looked after.

“What should we get?” Lydia said, driving towards town.

“Uh… Mexican?” Isaac offered. Lydia wrinkled her nose.

“Not feeling it, sushi?”

“Never had it,” Isaac shrugged.

“Chinese?”

“That’s fine,” Isaac said.

“Does… does this feel weird?” Lydia said.

“What?”

“Things are a mess and I feel we’re- we’re just hanging out, you know?” Lydia said.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I never really expected it would be just us. Ever,” Isaac said. “Not that that’s a bad thing, just… I never thought in a million years I would be spending the day with Lydia Martin,” he said with a half laugh.

“Yeah, I didn’t really expect to be hanging out with Isaac Lahey. Particularly in a situation where you might be the only good friend of mine who survives,” Lydia said.

Isaac processed what she said. She had called him a good friend. Yet she had also admitted that there was a chance that the two of them might be all that’s left. Funny.

They returned with the food to the animal clinic at mid morning and carried the takeout bags into the back room, still finding it unsettling to see their friends bodies drifting in the ice. Honestly it was surreal to sit around with Lydia Martin and Deaton the veterinarian, eating chinese food with three technically dead bodies next to them. His life had spiraled down an incredibly odd path, but he was still grateful for it. A few more hours passed without change and Isaac’s agitation returned.

“Would you please sit down? You’re not making anything better by pacing, Isaac,” Deaton said tiredly as they entered the afternoon.

“I don’t like sitting still,” he muttered, his hands twisting anxiously at his side.

“Fine, you need something to do?” Deaton stood. “Go to the front and go through the records. Throw out anything dating before 2007, okay?”

Isaac sighed, “yeah, fine.” Feeling bored, he tried to distract himself by going through records of someone’s dog getting it’s balls cut off ten years ago.

Hours continued to pass and Isaac was giving up hope. Maybe if things really went to hell he’d skip town. Or he would stick around with Lydia and Deaton, even Derek, and try and keep everyone else he could alive. It was sort of selfish, but he was afraid of what would happen to him if both his McCalls died. Where would he live? Would Derek actually bother with him? Especially if Cora died? What, would Lydia’s rich parents want to adopt a maybe-murderer? What, would he live here? In the back room of Deaton’s office? Or he could go back to his father’s house, which, yes now belonged to the state but no one was occupying or buying it, not with what was in the basement.

No, he couldn’t go back to his father’s. If he could he would burn that house, destroy the freezer in the basement until there was nothing left of it. Better homeless than back there. Better that everyone survived so he wouldn’t have to think about this.

It was nearing evening, four hours stood between them and the moon rise, Isaac had given up on being productive and instead sat on the floor behind the front counter. His ears picked up on water sloshing from the tubs and three mouths gasping for breath. He ran into the back room. All three of them were alive.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while! This is the last chapter that will overlap a lot with the canon material, the rest I think will be mostly some calming times for Isaac between part 1 and part 2 of season 3. Enjoy!

“I saw it, I know where it is!” Scott gasped.

“We passed it, there’s- there’s a stump, this huge tree, well, it’s not huge anymore it was cut down,” Stiles rambled, shivering. “But it’s still big though, very big.”

“It was the night we were looking for the body,” Scott said. 

“The same night you were bitten by Peter,” Stiles said emphatically.

“I was there too, in the car with my mother,” Allison added. “We almost hit someone!”

“It was me, you almost hit me,” Scott said.

Scott turned to Deaton, “we can find it.”

Isaac exchanged worried glances with the rest of them.

“What?” Scott asked.

“You guys were out a long time,” Isaac told them, his jaw tense. 

“How long is a long time?” Stiles asked, his panic obvious.

“Sixteen hours,” Deaton said solemnly.

“We’ve been in the water for sixteen hours?” Scott said almost angrily.

“And the full moon rises in less than four,” Deaton told him.

“We need to find Deucalion,” Scott said.

“Are you kidding me?” Isaac said. He turned away from Allison who he had been looking over nervously.

“No, dude, you are not going back with them,” Stiles gestured passionately.

“I made a deal with Deucalion,” Scott said, loyal to a fault.

“Does anyone else feel like that sounds a lot like a deal with the devil?” Stiles continued to gesture fanatically.

“Why does it matter anyways?” Isaac asked, looking lost in thought.

“Because I still don’t think that we can beat Jennifer without their help,” Scott said firmly.

“He trusts you more than anything, tell him he’s wrong,” Allison said to Deaton. Isaac could feel her cold, wet skin brushing against his back. He tried to ignore it.

“I’m not so sure he is,” Deaton’s words were enough of a distraction. “Circumstances like this sometimes require that you align yourself with people you’d normally consider enemies,” Deaton’s words held wisdom as per usual.

“So we’re gonna trust him?” Isaac didn’t like it regardless. “The guy that calls himself death, destroyer of worlds?” The guy that killed Boyd, he thought privately. “We’re gonna trust that guy?”

“I wouldn’t trust him, no,” Deaton said. “But you could use him to your advantage. Deucalion may be the enemy but he could also be the bait,” Deaton pointed out.

They were interrupted by the front door opening. Deaton cautiously went to the front. “I’m looking for Lydia,” they heard one of the twin’s, Ethan, call back to him.

“What do you want?” Lydia said, Scott close behind. 

“I need your help,” Ethan said.

“With what?” Now Stiles was joining the fray. Isaac stuck with Allison, listening intently.

“Stopping my brother and Kali,” Ethan said carefully. “From killing Derek.”

“How do you expect us to trust you?” Stiles said, he seemed awfully brave facing one of the wonder twins from behind the line of mountain ash.

“Because why else would I be here?” Ethan shot back.

“Maybe to seperate us. Lead us into a trap,” Isaac felt the need to join.

“He won’t leave, not without one of you to tell him what’s happening. Especially if it comes from someone who actually knows, like a banshee,” Ethan said.

Lydia nodded slowly, “I trust him.”

“What?” Stiles and Isaac said in sync before staring at one another uncomfortably.

“There’s no reason for him to lie and if this is a way I can help I’m gonna do it,” she said to them so fiercely her braid whirled around.

“Lydia, he’s- he’s-” Stiles didn’t seem sure what Ethan was.

“He’s telling the truth,” Lydia said.

“Are you sure about this?” Isaac said quietly. They were friends now, good friends. Lydia had said it so now he felt responsible for her in a sense.

“If Lydia trusts him, I’m okay with it,” Allison frowned.

“Let’s go,” Lydia passed through the mountain ash barrier with unwavering faith.

“Alright, in the meantime we should get stuff that belongs to your parents,” Deaton said. “Then you and Isaac can try and smell them out.”

“Back to their houses it is,” Isaac rolled his eyes. Scott gave him a funny look. “We got dry clothes for you guys.”

“I’ll go to my house, find something of my dad’s,” Stiles said.

“Let’s go to mine,” Allison said to the rest of them.

“I think I know my mom well enough by now. I can find her,” Scott nodded. “Then… we’ll meet with Deucalion.” No one responded to that, trepidation heavy in the air.

“I’ll be here,” Deaton said.

“Here,” Lydia handed Allison her clothes while Isaac tossed the boys theirs much less thoughtfully. Once changed, Stiles headed off to his shit jeep and the rest for Allison’s car. “We’ll all meet at the woods. Head to the root cellar together,” Stiles said in parting.

Isaac got into the back seat, assuming Scott would want to sit next to Allison. Instead Scott pulled out on his bike, leaving him and Allison alone in the car. Somehow knowing Scott was following behind made it harder for him to talk to her. They headed for Allison’s apartment.

“How did you get this stuff for us?” Allison asked, appreciating the dry clothes.

“While you guys were busy being dead, Lydia and I had a lovely tour of Beacon hills,” Isaac said sarcastically. “You left your door unlocked,” he told her. He chose not to mention the scaling he had repeated up the side of her building. They got out of the car to find Scott waiting for them looking somewhat confused.

“Stiles? What?” Scott answered his phone bemusedly. “Just, something that smells like him. Anything. No, it can’t be a dish he ate from, we’re not testing for his dna. Just get something he’s worn.” Scott said tiredly as they entered the elevator. Isaac felt the need to stand a foot apart from Allison.

“Just grab anything?” Scott continued as they entered Allison’s floor. “Stiles, I’m not smelling your dad’s boxers! Socks? Okay, I’ll smell the socks.”

“What about me?” Isaac said. He really didn’t want to smell Mr. Argent’s delicates.

“See what you can find in my dad’s closet,” Allison said. “Anything with the strongest scent,” she went to the office door as Isaac broke off towards what he thought was Mr. Argent’s room.

“Quiet the arsenal your father’s got here, young lady,” Isaac heard an unfamiliar voice come from the study. He began to walk quickly for the door at the end of the hall. “Scott,” he heard the voice continue and realized he recognized them. Mr. McCall.

“What’re you doing here?” Scott said sharply. Isaac began to slip the door open, if he made it out of here he could still try and smell out the parents with Stiles’ instruction.

“-You too Isaac,” Mr. McCall shouted into the hall. Isaac froze and grudgingly joined his friends.

“How do you know my name?” He asked warily. Mr. McCall probably knew too much about him. Isaac was bitter due to the fact that really it seemed like everyone did.

“Your name’s one of the few things I know,” Mr. McCall said rather cryptically. “To be honest, the rest of what’s going on around here has me stumbling in the dark, even over the smallest clue.”

“If you’re trying to tell me that you don’t have a clue,” Scott entered the study in a defensive posture. “I learned that a long time ago.”

Isaac felt a flicker of pride from his point of lurking in the doorway. It was oddly satisfying to even just hear his friend give a shitty father some hell.

“I’m really hoping to avoid the embarrassment of dragging my own son into an interrogation room,” Mr. McCall’s voice stayed cold. “Really hoping.”

“Okay, so don’t,” Scott snapped back.

“Why don’t you three have a seat,” he said.

Knowing they had no choice, Allison and Scott took the two chairs and Isaac leaned abrasively on the table between them.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m more than a little disturbed not only by the number of missing parents but by the fact that it’s Stiles’s father, your father, and your mother,” he pointed to each of them in turn. Skipping over Isaac. Obviously.

Isaac raised his hand sarcastically, “mine are both dead.” He was well aware of the fact that according to Mr. McCall he was still probably the main suspect for his father’s murder.

“Save the cliched teenage apathy for your high school teachers,” Mr. McCall shot back. Tusche, Isaac couldn’t help but think. Although he considered cliched teenage apathy to be a defining quality of his. “The three of you know more than you’re saying,” Mr. McCall continued, anger now evident. “And I am fully willing to keep you here all night if I have to.”

There was silence from the three of them. Eventually Scott spoke, “you can’t keep us here.”

“Not without some kind of warrant,” Allison continued. Isaac allowed the duo to deal with things in their synchronized way.

“I’ve got a desk full of probable cause.” Damn. He definitely was a McCall.

“My father is a highly respected private security consultant,” Allison stood, her lies firing off easily. “And federally licensed firearms dealer. That means he has to own a few weapons,” her condescending tone? Perfect. “Like this 175-pound draw tactical crossbow,” she circled the desk and Isaac sensed a plan coming. He got ready to move. “Or this carbon steel marine combat knife, .50AE desert eagle,” her voice was almost mocking. God, he loved her. Not like that of course, of course... but still. Allison picked up a canister he didn’t recognize. “Smoke grenade. With pull ring ignitor.” Oh. “Go!” As smoke filled the room the three of them ran for it, Mr. McCall shouting after them.

They had no time to talk and instead ran to their respective vehicles. They would meet at the reserve.

“Good thinking,” Isaac said, somewhat breathless.

“Thanks,” they sped towards the woods at less than legal speeds, managing to get a jump on the feds.

“You okay? Do you think they’re still following us?” Isaac questioned.

“Fine. And I doubt it. I don't think Mr. McCall was expecting that,” Allison said with a half laugh.

“Yeah,” Isaac smirked, feeling like despite everything at least they’d won against someone.

He overtook the silence by checking his phone, actually hoping Stiles would meet them there so he wouldn’t be a third wheel.

They stopped sharply outside the fencing, a storm now whipping the trees into a frenzy.

“You okay?” Allison asked Scott.

“I didn’t know what to say to him, I couldn’t come up with anything, but what you did was awesome!” Scott spoke a little breathlessly and Isaac felt like he didn’t belong between them.

“I still haven’t gotten anything from Stiles, you?” Isaac interrupted.

“I don’t get it,” Scott said worriedly.

“All right, well. We can’t wait for him. Come on,” Isaac pushed on, knowing the parents had little time left.

They reached the peak of the reserve, Beacon Hills bowing before the storm below them.

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t we, Scott?” That british drawl came from the darkness behind them. Deucalion.

“We got a little delayed,” Scott said, glancing back to his friends for reassurance. “Where are the others?”

“Occupying themselves with other pursuits,” Deucalion said doley. He didn’t like the sound of that. It wasn’t hard to guess what those pursuits were.

“So it’s just you and me against her,” Scott said carefully. Isaac would have taken offense, but he knew he would be busy trying to dig up Melissa and the others. God, he hoped the root cellar wasn’t too cramped.

“I think you’ll be surprised what a good team we make,” Deucalion said with that sinister cryptic air he carried.

Scott thought for a moment, “okay, get Stiles, and then get to the root cellar, okay? We’ll keep Jennifer away long enough for you to get them out of there.”

“How are you going to do that?” No matter how powerful Deucalion was and how powerful Scott was supposed to become, Isaac didn’t see how they could stop that crazy thing pretending to be an english teacher.

“I have a plan,” Scott said with a knowing sort of half smile. Great. Isaac wondered if he should ask Scott if he wants to be cremated or buried.

Allison and Isaac headed off into the woods. 

“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Isaac asked, pessimism still his constant companion.

“I know we’re near it,” Allison said. Her certainty was strange, but comforting.

Isaac trusted Allison to lead them, but he was worried, where was Stiles? He checked the air, everything smelled like damp woods and any other scents were carried away by the wind and rain.

“Do you think you can pick up a scent?” Allison asked.

“I’m trying but I can’t-” A distant ringing reached his ears, he froze. “I hear something,” he told her. He listened hard. “It’s an emitter, it’s one of your dad’s.” It was sharp in his ears, faint but consistent.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Has to be,” really, what else could it be? “Come on!” The sound could be lost in the wind, he had to run before it as long as he knew the direction.

Allison froze. Ahead of them Isaac saw the stump of a massive tree. They ran to it and Allison looked around frantically. Isaac listened.

“Allison,” he stared ahead. A small door of old wooden slats led under ground. Oh he was not gonna like this.

They ran to it, the wind pulling at their faces and the storm only growing in intensity. There was nothing natural about it. Isaac bottled his fears and pulled open the doors with her. Underground it was, then. As they stumbled down the creaking stairs Isaac saw earth crumbling in the distant gloom. Shit. 

“Oh my god, thank god!” Allison ran to her father, tied to a post at the bottom of the stairs.

Isaac ran to Ms. McCall, tearing into the rope around her wrists. She was alive and relief pressed down on him as much as anxiety did as the already tiny cellar fell inward.

“Where’s Stiles? Where’s my son?” Sheriff Stilinski shouted above the wind.

“And Scott?”  
“They’re on their way to help,” Isaac told them, knowing well there was a good chance no one was coming.

“Okay,” Melissa gasped out, her breathing shaky and Isaac hoped desperately she was okay.

Above them with an unsettling crackle more earth poured in around them and Isaac felt like his heart was trembling in his chest. He didn’t want to die down here. He couldn’t be buried alive not after everything. He scrambled to finish untying Melissa, trying to ignore the cataclysm overhead. The others began pulling the ropes off and more earth poured in, closing off more and more of the limited space. 

“Hurry!” Isaac screamed, feeling as if he were trapped in one of his nightmares.

As more chunks of wood framing fell apart he tried to keep them away from the damage.

“Come on, let’s get out of here!” Stilinski moved towards the stairs, only for it to crumble with the rest of the framing. Isaac shielded Allison and Mr. Argent from the rubble as the Sheriff did the same for Melissa. Isaac felt as if his strength were withering under the impossible weight above them. They froze as their exit caved down into a barrier. After the stunned silence Mr. Argent investigated and confirmed what they all knew.

“It’s blocked,” Mr. Argent moved closer to them and stated the obvious. “What do you see?” He asked the werewolf, as if his vision would magically find a way out. “Anything?”  
Isaac shook his head, hoping his fear wasn’t too obvious.

“Look out!” Mr Argent shouted. With a crack another chunk of concrete collapsed, allowing more earth to pour in.

Dirt poured over him and he heard Allison shout out his name as he was half buried and could only cower away. He felt Sheriff Stilinski's arms grab onto his jacket and heave him away from the rubble. So he wasn’t dead yet. Cracks continued to spread above him and Mr. Argent covered Allison like his body could stop the weight about to crush them. He had to do something.

“Melissa, go!” The sheriff ushered her away from the next collapse and with a grim determination Isaac stood and pushed against the crumbling support beam over them. Another piece of wood cracked and the weight burned into his shoulders. He felt his eyes turn as the adrenaline forced him to support the crushing weight above him. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.

The others stood staring up at the ceiling supported only by the young werewolf. While the part above them still held the rest of the cellar crumbled around them. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was having a panic attack then or if whatever this was was just adrenaline. The walls seemed to bend in and out.

“Is it me, or is this place getting smaller?” Isaac gasped out. The weight buckled even more above him and he was almost brought to his knees.  
Suddenly, the weight increased ten fold and a strange orange and yellow light filtered through the storm eerily.

“I can’t hold it!” Isaac screamed out as he collapsed to his knees. Stilinski rushed to his side, holding it up with a human strength Isaac now realized they shared. The weight felt like it would break him now and Isaac knew his powers were fully human then. “I can’t do it,” he gasped out. “I can’t hold it. I can’t hold it,” his words were mumbled and panicked. 

“It’s too much, it’s too heavy!” Allison said as the others joined and pushed overhead.

Suddenly the trembling stopped, someone had entered the cellar. Stiles. A metal bat now supported the concrete. “I always said aluminum was better than wood,” the Sheriff said tiredly. Stiles threw his arms around his father and Isaac wondered how strange it would be if he did the same to Melissa.

The winds slowed and everyone looked to the gaps in the ceiling as the sky turned natural once again.

“Is it over?” Allison asked no one in particular. Relief weighted the room far more than the concrete above them.

“Scott?” Somehow Stiles had a signal in this hole as he answered his phone. “We’re okay, we’re all okay.” Isaac actually believed him. “You think you could come get us?” A pause. “Great, okay. Uh. Bring a ladder. The others laughed but Isaac couldn’t bring himself to move. He planned on staying curled in the middle of the open space of the cellar until Scott arrived, fearing if he moved a panic attack would really set in and he would turn.

“You okay?” Allison noticed his trepidation as they waited for Scott and his ladder.

“Nope. Nope, not at all,” he said quietly. The storm had stopped but he still felt as if the root cellar was shrinking.

“We did it, we won,” she said gently.

“Not that. It’s… it’s too small,” he said.

“Oh,” realization dawned on her. “You were… you were really brave. To come down here with me.”

Isaac let out a half laugh. “Sure.”

“I’ll stay with you. Until Scott gets here,” she sat down beside him. “You’re not trapped, Isaac. Help is coming.”

Allison, as always, was right. Scott arrived a half hour later with a ladder over his shoulder and he and Derek dug them out. For the second time, Derek gave Isaac a hand out of a grave. Isaac looked up at him, unsure if he wanted to punch him or hug him. He settled for neither.

“Thanks,” Isaac muttered.

“You okay?” Derek asked him.

“I think so,” Isaac said. There was a strange silence between them as Scott helped the others out of the cellar. “You?”

“Yeah. I, uh,” Derek smirked. “I didn’t do... 'nothing'.”

“Good,” was all Isaac could think to respond.

“Is Lydia okay?” Allison interrupted and asked Derek.

“Yeah. She was with Cora when I left her,” he told her and the moment between Isaac and Derek ended.

“Come on, let’s go back to Deaton’s. We can recoup there,” Scott said, his arm unwilling to leave Melissa’s shoulders.

Isaac stood back as they trudged through the woods, each child paired off with their found parents and Derek called Cora to check in. He stayed quiet, allowing the above ground air and snippets of happy conversation to wash over him.

“...yeah I think the jeep might be totaled,” Stiles said sheepishly, baseball bat swinging at his side.

“We’ll fix it. You’re not giving up on that jeep until you’re dead...” the Sheriff teased, his arm around his son.

“...Do you think he’ll stick around?” Scott asked his mother.

“If he does, we’ll let him know he’s not just waltzing back into our lives. But he’s still your father, Scott…” She responded.

“...it was so stupid, dad. You better not do anything like that again,” Allison pretended to still be angry with her father but her relief that he was okay bled through.

“East? Further?” Derek paused. “You want to leave the country? Yeah, I guess that’s good. We need to figure things out and I doubt we can do that here…” Derek’s words over the phone drifted back to him and Isaac knew he definitely wasn’t moving back in with him. Isaac glanced at the McCalls. That really wasn’t a bad thing anymore.

“Hey, what’re you doing back there? Come’re,” Melissa, Isaac realized, was talking to him. She reached out and pulled on the sleeve of his jacket, now caked in dust from the cellar, and made him walk on her other side. She put her arms around both her boys. “You two are such little heroes, aren’t you?” She teased. Allison glanced back and gave him a small smile, Stiles continued to talk enthusiastically to his bemused father about the supernatural world he needed to be caught up on and Derek led the line, still planning with Cora over the phone. Things felt okay. Not perfect, but Isaac wasn’t so sure he was alone anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

“This meeting was a little unprompted, Isaac. Would you mind telling me why Ms. McCall scheduled this?”

“Because… things are over. The other night, we finished things with the alpha pack and the darach. Ms. McCall was worried about me because…” Isaac faded off.

He felt tired still. It had been less than forty eight hours since he was desperately trying to save his friends so he supposed it made sense. It felt strange. After everything in the past few days to be back sitting in Doctor Gallagher's office, just talking. Just… having therapy. He slumped back into his chair like always, unable to illicit a response to her question.

“She told me that she thought you were distant. She had hoped you would be happier now that all this is over,” Dr. Gallagher answered it for him.

“I just… I don’t think I’m ready,” Isaac began slowly. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about things. Not even with Scott,” he hesitated. Talking about something as pathetic as his feelings for Allison felt out of place here. “I think I just need some time.”

“Why not with Scott? Has something happened between you two?”

“It’s… complicated,” Isaac began awkwardly. It felt strange to discuss, but than again, this was her job. “Allison and I… we’ve gotten… closer,” he struggled to find the words. “And her and Scott have something too. So I don’t know how to talk about it with him.”

“You don’t have to talk to him about anything right now, I think you both have enough going on as it is,” she said reasonably.

“Yeah, like his dad is in town!” Isaac sat up, his feelings now more obvious. “He’s talked to Ms. McCall and I don’t know what the hell he’s gonna think when he finds out I’m living there…”

“I don’t think his opinion really counts here. Ms. McCall has no intention of kicking you out and I doubt her ex husband is going to change that,” she told him.

“I just… I don’t know if I can talk over everything yet, could we just leave it as it is?” Isaac immediately faltered again, unable to take on her reassurance.

“Well, we were originally scheduled to meet in two days, how about we keep that appointment and continue our discussion then?” Dr. Gallagher knew better than to press.

Isaac actually felt a little surprised to find the waiting room empty. With a pang of worry he wondered if Scott was mad at him. Then again, he had mentioned needing to talk to Deaton and working late at the clinic. Isaac shook away his anxiety and began the walk back to the McCall’s house. He walked past his old neighborhood, a strange feeling of fear returning to him at the sight of his old house in the corner of his eye. It looked like no one had moved in. He continued past the bitter memories down Circle St. He walked passed the animal clinic and was relieved to find that Scott’s bike was parked in front of it. He hadn’t just left him, then. He continued down their street, pausing when he saw Mr. McCall’s car parked out front. He stood there, frozen, unsure for a moment if he was welcome there.

“Rafe, you know I won’t force you away but I don’t think you should be staying here right now,” Ms. McCall stepped onto the front porch and showed her ex husband out.

“Fine, but I’m worried, Melissa. Scott’s behavior, I can’t explain it I just know something's different. Something’s wrong with him,” Mr. McCall responded. He stepped off the porch, stopping when he saw Isaac. “Scott’s not here, Isaac.”

“I know,” Isaac said stiffly, realizing that Mr. McCall didn’t know that Isaac was allowed to stay in that house and he wasn’t.

“Melissa,” Mr. McCall talked in hushed tones, not knowing that Isaac’s inhuman hearing could hear every word. “That,” he referred to Isaac. “Might just be part of the problem. That boy has a history with the law and I don’t know if he’s a good influence on our son.”

“I think it’s best if you leave right now, Rafael,” Melissa spoke normally but there was something dangerous in her voice.

“Just consider what I’ve said, Melissa,” Mr. McCall sighed. “I’ll stop by later, to see Scott if that’s alright.”

“If you must,” Melissa said coldly, unmoving until Mr. McCall resumed his walk to his car. “Isaac, come here, sweetie. What were you doing standing outside?” She waved him over, ignoring Mr. McCall’s confused glances as she welcomed the boy into her home.

“I didn’t want to interrupt. I saw that he was here,” Isaac muttered,a strange anxiety in his chest knowing that Mr. McCall definitely didn’t approve of him being there, let alone living there. He tried to hide it under his usual aloofness.

“You heard what he said, didn’t you?” Ms. McCall saw right through him.

“Yeah,” Isaac said grudgingly.

“Ignore Rafe, he doesn’t know half of what’s going on,” she pulled him inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. “You’ve been such a good friend to Scott, alright Isaac? I know it and so does he,” Melissa consoled him easily.

“Thanks, Ms. McCall,” Isaac said softly. It seemed like whenever he spoke it was harsh and confident or soft and unsure.

“Sorry I couldn’t go pick you up, Rafe just had to talk to me about Scott,” Melissa rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine. So… he’s not staying here, then?” Isaac said slowly.

“Nope. No way. He doesn’t have the right to,” Melissa said simply.

“And he… he doesn’t know I’m staying here?”

“It’s none of his business. Now I won’t stop him from visiting his son, but he doesn’t get to move back in like nothings happened,” Melissa said firmly. “How was the session?”

“Alright, I didn’t really feel like… like I wanted to talk about things yet,” Isaac said slowly.

“That’s okay, Isaac. I’m glad you went though. Scott should be home soon, we could have pizza, huh? To celebrate that we’re all okay?” Melissa said. They hadn’t done much since what had happened the night before. That day had been all about recovery and now they could celebrate.

“That sounds good, Ms. McCall,” Isaac nodded.

“Maybe an early night, though. You two should go back to school tomorrow, alright?” Melissa’s motherly sternness returned.

Scott came home not much later, looking as if he had had his own therapy session with Deaton. The way he looked at Isaac… it was like he understood, but hadn’t come to terms with what had changed between them. Allison. Isaac tried to push it away and Ms. McCall made sure to fill in the silence between them as she criticized the medical soaps they were watching. It felt… normal. Not perfect and definitely different, but normal.

Some time around ten Melissa ushered the two of them off to bed. Isaac held back his usual complaints, mostly grateful that there was someone there to scold him, just scold, not hurt, and mother him in any way. Just as he was about to get changed his phone rang. Isaac jumped, it was Derek.

“What?” Isaac couldn’t help but be cold when he picked up the phone, partially because he had a good guess what this would be about.

“Come outside,” Derek’s gruff voice responded.

Isaac went to his window. Derek stood outside of his car and stared up at the house broodingly. With a tired sigh Isaac hung up and went downstairs. He stood on the front porch, eyeing Derek warily. Derek refused to meet him so Isaac grudgingly joined him by the car.

“I have to leave,” Derek got straight to the point.

“Well you don’t have to, you’re choosing to,” Isaac said snarkily, remembering that there was a time when Derek had leaned so far into the dark that he would have responded by breaking Isaac’s arm.

“Cora needs me, Isaac. She can’t stay here. I think we’re leaving the country,” Derek said, resolute in his choice.

“Fine then,” Isaac responded as coldly as he could.

There was quiet, both of them too stubborn to be the first to turn to sentiment. They weren’t careless though, and they both felt the weight of the uniqueness in their bond. Isaac was the last of Derek’s betas. Derek was Isaac’s alpha. ‘Was’ felt much more prominent in that now.

“Be safe, Isaac,” Derek gave him a curt nod and turned to leave.

“So that’s it, then?” Isaac snapped. Derek froze. “You’re just going to up and leave?” Isaac’s voice broke slightly and he wished it hadn’t. Derek turned to face him, something close to confusion under the brooding facade he always wore.

“Cora needs me,” Derek said bluntly again.

“Yeah, well. You used to say that I needed you,” Isaac felt so much hurt and anger pouring into his words. “That you would look out for me. For all of us.” Derek said nothing. “So getting Erica and Boyd killed wasn’t enough for you then?” It was a low blow, but Isaac couldn’t stop himself. “You decide to destroy any credibility you had as an alpha and leave the last of your pack to die off as an omega?”

“You know that isn’t true, Isaac,” Derek said coolly.

“Fine, maybe it isn’t, but you’re still breaking your promise! You’ve broken all of them, Derek. You never should have become an alpha! You can’t just leave me! What, just because I’m all that’s left, just because I won’t make you anymore powerful, that gives you the right to leave the fucking country?” Isaac was shaking now. He knew that he didn’t really need Derek, not really, but it still hurt to be abandoned by someone who had said he’d be there for him.

“Fine! I’m not an alpha anymore, anyways! Just, go back to Scott, Isaac!” Derek snapped. “You don’t need me anymore than I need you.”

Those words were biting, almost as much as the experience of being coerced by a man with red eyes in an abandoned subway car. Of being cornered by Derek who told him it would stop all his pain, how he would look out for him, how he just needed to hold still and Derek would make it quick. After that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. After that, Derek would always look out for him. Bullshit.

“Fuck you!” Isaac shouted at him.

“Isaac! Derek!” Scott called out to them from the porch, looking ready to defend whoever needed it then.

“There you go, Isaac. Go back to your real alpha. An omega…” Derek scoffed. “You’re Scott’s beta now, so don’t try and pretend you’re all alone.” Derek moved back to his car. “I’m leaving, Scott. Have fun with your pack.”

“Stop,” Scott refused to let things end like this.

“You won’t change my mind, Scott-”

“Not that, you can’t just leave like this. Not angry with each other, okay?” Scott stood between them. “Derek, you haven’t done right by Isaac and you know it. Isaac, as if you’d even want to see Derek if he stuck around. You have a home here and Derek’s right, you don’t need him.”

“Isaac, you know I didn’t ask for any of this,” even Derek’s apology sounded self pitying to Isaac. But Derek took a deep breath, and suddenly became sincere. “I wish we could’ve been a pack. I wish Erica and Boyd were okay and… well. I just wish things hadn’t turned out like this.”

“Me too,” Isaac’s voice was quiet. An obvious sign that he wasn’t angry anymore, just hurt.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll come back one day. Maybe we’ll see each other again,” Derek forced a smile. Isaac didn’t think either of them believed him.

Derek left. He and Cora, even Peter it seemed, were leaving the loft the next morning. Isaac no longer had a pack. Scott put a comforting hand on Isaac’s back. Maybe, but maybe not.

“Come on, I’ll sleep in your room tonight,” Scott said gently. Isaac didn’t even need to ask, and Scott was there for him. Like Derek never was.

The following day Isaac left for school early, letting Scott sleep in. The past few days had been hard for all of them, but especially for the young maybe-alpha. Isaac walked to school slowly, breathing in the cold morning air and actually feeling like maybe things would get better. The chill reached him through his blue sweatshirt but it felt… cleansing. He arrived at the school at the same time as Allison. She smiled softly at him and joined him as he entered the school.

“I heard Derek skipped town,” Allison said.

“Yeah, well. Maybe he needed to,” Isaac admitted.

“You gonna be okay?” She asked him.

Isaac glanced around at the slowly filling halls as they lingered on the stairs. The other students of Beacon Hills existed in peaceful ignorance as usual. Isaac turned to Allison, a strange smile coming to his face. “Yeah, I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't think I hate Derek or anything, I've liked a lot of his character, I just think after everything Isaac probably isn't 100% on good terms with him, so the writing reflected that, not necessarily my opinion.


	14. Chapter 14

“You seem better Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“I’m restless,” Isaac said.

“Because you’ve had some peace? A few days of quiet and just going to school?” She questioned.

“It doesn’t last. It never does. It’s not like I don’t still have nightmares; it’s not like I don’t stop breathing anymore in a room that’s too small,” Isaac rebuked her.

“But you’re better, Isaac. Things are better,” Dr. Gallagher insisted.

“I guess you could say that, but you know we aren’t safe. No one like us is and it's not like I’ve ever had much luck with safety,” Isaac said.

“The alpha pack, the darach, they’re no longer a threat. It’s been days of calm since they were handled. I know that isn’t much, but could you try and take a leap of faith that maybe things can be okay for a while?” She continued to push.

“I can try. That doesn’t mean it’ll change anything,” Isaac didn’t look her in the eye.

“Alright,” she clapped her hands together, startling Isaac out of his gloom. “Let’s say you’re right. You don’t get better, you aren’t safe, maybe another alpha-pack type problem comes up. What then?” She stared him down.

“You’re a therapist, aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?” Isaac said incredulously.

“I am, Isaac. What do you think would happen? Worst case scenario?” She said emphatically.

“My friends, what’s left of them anyways, they’d be dead too. That’s about as worse as it gets. I’d be alone. I’d still have panic attacks, hell, with no one to stop me from turning I might even kill someone. I’d be stuck living with all this bullshit alone. In a town where I’m just the freak who might’ve killed his psycho dad and who doesn’t have any friends,” Isaac paused. “Again, how is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“Because, let’s say you lose people.”

Isaac gave her a pointed look.

“Alright, more people. Say you lose someone close to you and suddenly this town feels even worse than it did before. You can’t take the stares and the isolation and you can’t grieve in a place like this, those are all valid points, but I have a point to make too,” her intensity rose as she came to her conclusion, “regardless of everything that could happen, you will still be alive.”

“And?”

“Let me finish, Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher pushed on. “As long as you’re alive you can change. You can recover. So maybe you can’t recover here, then don’t. If things get too bad, maybe you need some time away from Beacon Hills. To process things. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes,” Isaac said grudgingly, but he had to admit, leaving Beacon Hills had seemed like running away, but if it really was a viable option, it was a nice safety net in case things got bad. Of course he didn’t want to leave now, everything he had, sure, some of it bad, was here.

“But you don’t have to worry about that yet, Isaac. Things are better, regardless of what the future may hold. You have good things going for you here, and no one else has to die. That shouldn’t be your expectation for the future,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“Yeah, well. Other people have said something similar, and so far none of them have been right,” Isaac muttered.

“What people?” She asked. Isaac paused for a moment.

“Derek,” he began. “When he offered the bite to me. I went to him for help, because of the way he seemed to… understand. When he pulled me out of that grave. And when he was telling me what would happen, the one thing he guaranteed was that things would get better. That my dad wouldn’t be able to hurt me anymore. That he would protect me.”

“And who else?”

“Scott. Well, Scott and Ms. McCall. They’ve made the same promises,” Isaac said quietly.

“And you don’t think they’ve been able to keep them.”

“Derek definitely hasn’t. He left me and he struggled, a lot, with the alpha pack. I don’t blame him for it, but it’s true. Not to mention he’s left town now. And the McCalls… even if I’m okay, even if I’m living somewhere better, that doesn’t change the fact that two of my friends are dead. That people, that things tried to kill us. What’s to stop that from happening again?”

“Things won’t always be bad, Isaac. Already things are better, sure they’ll never be normal for you or your friends, but things will be better.”

-

“Isaac, how’d it go?” As per usual, Scott was in the waiting room when he left.

“I told you to stop waiting for me,” Isaac said. He looked Scott in the eye and he thought about Allison. He looked away. They’d both avoided talking about her for the past few days and planned to continue to do so.

“No way, buddy! You don’t have a ride, I can’t just leave you hanging!” Scott said, his cheerfulness felt different from usual. Isaac wasn’t sure if it was because they were tiptoeing around Allison or because of whatever the three of them had seen in the ice. Scott seemed more distant, which was strange since it had always been Isaac pulling back from Scott’s mushy brotherly attitude.

“Thanks, Scott,” Isaac said quietly. Something seemed to flicker in Scott’s warm, brown eyes at this strange openness Isaac was giving off. A smaller, but much more real smile came from Scott’s lopsided face. They headed out to the bike. Scott seemed lost in thought on the ride home.

“Do you remember what we talked about? That night that things were really bad?” Scott said once they arrived at the house.

“You’re gonna need to be more specific,” Isaac stared at him, thinking back on the fact that they’d shared a lot of bad nights.

“I said we couldn’t keep doing what we’re doing,” Scott said with that serious determination he had. “We have to do something else. Besides feeling miserable and fighting off crazy monsters and seeing things…” Scott stared off into space for a moment.

“Are you seeing things, Scott?” Isaac said carefully.

“What I mean is, I want us to do something fun. Anything, you know? You even said, you haven’t done anything fun. Ice skating, or a party, or just hanging out for a reason besides planning the next fight,” Scott ignored his question and moved on.

“Yeah, because I would totally settle in well at a party,” Isaac scoffed.

“Okay then, not a party. Just something fun, you know?” Scott said almost pleadingly. Isaac frowned back at him.

“Yeah, fine. We’ll do something fun,” Isaac said somewhat grudgingly, as if he already knew that whatever Scott found fun he wouldn’t be quite happy with.

“Don’t be so serious,” Scott said with that puppish smile he always had. “You like going to clubs, don’t you? Remember the Jungle?”

“That was a gay bar, which is cool and all but not really my scene, that we went to to catch Jackson,” Isaac pointed out. Could it be his scene? Isaac had never bothered to find out.

“It was fun, though!” Scott said. “I’ll find something you want to do. Guarantee it, alright?”

“Yeah, sure Scott,” Isaac decided it was easiest just to agree.

“Come on, let’s go eat,” Scott said. “My dad said he wanted to eat with me tonight,” Scott said with an eye roll. “So he’ll probably be over in a bit. You don’t have to eat with us,” Scott said quickly. “I know that’d probably be awkward for you.”

“I don’t mind much. Your mom will be there too, right?” For some reason Isaac felt like he’d feel better with Ms. McCall there.

“Yeah. Although she isn’t thrilled by the idea either,” Scott said.

Isaac wanted to ask Scott why Mr. McCall wasn’t in their lives anymore, but he knew better than to pry. Part of him feared that Mr. McCall might have something in common with his dad, but he knew Melissa wouldn’t let that type of man back through their door.

“Hey, mexican okay for tonight?” Ms. McCall put the phone on her shoulder and asked them as they entered the house. The smell had become familiar to Isaac, it just smelled like home. More than the Lahey house ever had.

“Sounds good, mom,” Scott kicked his shoes off and went to get plates. Isaac got the silverware. Their routine had become natural now.

“Isaac?” She made a point of checking with him too. “You know Scott’s dad is eating with us tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good, Ms. McCall,” Isaac said.

“Food should be ready in a half hour, Scott, would you go pick it up?”Melissa said. “Your dad is coming over at seven.”

“Okay, yeah sure,” Scott nodded. “Isaac, want to come along?”

“Yeah. Sure. I got homework to do, so,” Isaac withdrew into his room, trying to plow through a chemistry worksheet. School never was his forte, particularly when his motivation was avoiding the wrath of his father.

“Isaac? Have you finished the history questions yet?” Scott joined him with his books in hand.

“Ah, fuck. Forgot about it,” Isaac hissed. “Haven’t even done the chem work yet.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Catching up from all the chaos of the past month, past few months, was going to be hard.

“Oh, I finished that earlier, you copy off mine and we can finish the history stuff together,” Scott tossed him the papers.

“Thanks,” Isaac muttered.

Since he’d moved in moments like these weren’t uncommon, but it felt strange still. Like he still had a brother. He hadn’t thought of Camden for a long time, but even in the happy moments he would be reminded of his dead brother. Isaac scribbled down Scott’s answers while Scott worked on the history assignment. Scott had seemed so tired since the fight with the Darach Isaac didn’t understand how he was keeping up with school and everything else.

“Come on, mom says we should get the food,” Scott checked his phone and stood. “You want to keep working here or come along?”

“I’m done with this, I’ll come,” Isaac threw down his pencil and followed Scott downstairs.

“Put on a jacket, Scott! It’s cold out,” Melissa called to them. “You too, Isaac.”

“Fine,” Scott complied with that gentle annoyance he had with his mother. Isaac did too and as always the nature of a mother bemused him.

They got on Scott’s bike, Isaac finding it perfectly natural now to ride behind Scott. He remembered his first time on a bike, with that strange girl after he’d escaped from the bank, feeling weak and sick, slipping out of consciousness and causing them to crash… Now he felt steady, his arms around Scott’s waist and the roar of the engine in his ears. As they shot down the street towards the Northern Bridge, Isaac knew Scott felt happier than he had in months. It was something in the way he held himself. Isaac could feel his relaxed shoulders and confidence as they passed the animal clinic and arrived at the bridge.

The lights reflected off the dark water of the East Hills river and Scott let out a shout of joy. The bridge glittered with lights off the evening traffic. Scott hit the gas and they swerved dangerously between cars and Isaac held on tighter, feeling as if a weight in his chest was lifted out with Scott’s joy. They were okay. Whatever happened to Scott in the ice, whatever Mr. McCall was doing here, not even whatever was going on with Allison could bring anything between Isaac and Scott at that moment. Isaac never thought he’d be happy with his home life, after he moved in with Derek he didn’t think he could have a home life. One with family dinners and someone reminding you to put a coat on, but Scott had made that happen for him. Ms. McCall had taken him in. For a moment all the fears and bitterness that seemed to follow Isaac were left in the street, and he could feel relieved with Scott. Even just for a moment.

“You okay?” Scott said a little breathlessly as they parked outside of Fresco’s, the mexican place downtown.

“I’m good,” Isaac grinned. Isaac’s smile always startled himself, whenever he saw it he felt like he had too many teeth and it looked wild or crazed. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t used to smiling, really smiling, very often. But maybe now he could just let go, feel happier. Feel okay with himself.

“I’ll try not to drive so stupidly on the way back,” Scott said sheepishly, holding the door open for his tall but slouching friend. The freedom faded and Isaac once again felt uncomfortable in public spaces. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stayed slumped over, as if unwilling to take up space.

“I didn’t mind. It was… fun,” Isaac told him, staring around with his usual reserved air at the few customers. 

“Alright,” Scott laughed. “I’ll remember that- parties? Not fun. But for you being on the back of a bike while I drive like a maniac? Very fun.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said with a half laugh.

He lingered behind Scott who got the food, Scott was as chipper as always but Isaac could sense that the freedom they had felt for a moment faded once they returned to stable ground. If only they could keep that feeling in a bottle, just hold on to that euphoric disconnect from everything that had happened to them. It didn’t return even as they drove back to the house. Yet the peace was still there and there was good food between them, warming their skin, as they recrossed the bridge and disrupted the quiet northern neighborhoods.

Scott parked outside the house, they could see Mr. McCall was there now. Great. Scott and Isaac headed up to the front, Scott unlocking the door with a sigh while Isaac carried the food. Mr. McCall was sitting rather awkwardly with a glass of water at the dinner table. Ms. McCall was avoiding him by shuffling around in the kitchen, despite no cooking being required, and sipping wine.

“Scott,” Melissa smiled at her son as if his presence would make a dinner with her ex husband any less uncomfortable.

Mr. McCall stood when Scott entered, seeming unsure if he was allowed to hug his son. “Scott,” he repeated. His eyes glanced back to Isaac in confusion. “Isaac,” he said.

“Is that the food?” Melissa interrupted the stifling silence and took the food from Isaac’s arms. “Thanks, boys. Get yourselves something to drink,” she began to pull out the takeout containers, apparently oblivious to the tension in the room. Mr. McCall didn’t seem willing to ask why the hell Isaac was joining in on their “family” dinner.

“This was a good idea, mom. Thanks for buying,” Scott said to his mom, all but ignoring his father as he got himself a fajita. Isaac was doing the opposite, he hadn’t touched the food yet and instead sat as quietly as he could across from Mr. McCall, hyper aware of the man’s presence. Melissa and Scott between them acting as a buffer of discomfort. Despite their company Isaac felt almost like he was eating across from his dad again.

“So, Rafe, you’re back in town on business, right?” Melissa tried to start up some sort of harmless conversation.

“Yes. Sorry to say I can’t disclose the details,” Mr. McCall said coolly. Isaac had a feeling his eyes were staring across at him.

“Of course,” Melissa said. She was civil as always but there was an almost mocking humor to her tone which Isaac appreciated. “Your big top secret fed job, right?”

“Right,” Mr. McCall replied.

“Stopped any Beacon Hills terrorists yet, dad?” Scott did little to hide his sarcasm.

“So, Scott. Are you going to school again?” The first thing Mr. McCall brought up was one of Scott’s “slips” into delinquency.

“Yep,” Scott replied shortly. Isaac had said he would be fine eating with them, but now he was feeling deeply disconcerted by this disturbing family chat. He wondered if it was because in his house this type of tension usually ended with something breaking, plates and sometimes noses.

“What spurred your little break the other week?” Mr. McCall tiptoed around their escapade in Allison’s apartment but it was obvious he was prodding at the issue.

“A little bit of conflict between friends, that’s all. I had to help. You remember what it was like to help people, don’t you, dad?” Scott’s tone was cool but his words biting.

“Between friends, was it?” Mr. McCall said and Isaac could definitely feel his eyes burning into him but just like with his dad he refused to look up.

“Isaac, honey, are you gonna eat something?” Melissa interrupted the tension.

“Yeah, I will,” Isaac said, finding his voice to be strangely hoarse.

“Here,” Ms. McCall spoke gently, seeming to have caught on to his timidness and began to pile food onto his plate.

“So, Isaac. I’m assuming you’re back in school as well, am I right?” Mr. McCall seemed reminded that there was a fourth person at the dinner table.

“Yes sir,” Isaac spoke in a voice that didn’t feel like his own. It felt like a version of himself from a different time. He doubted he’d called anyone ‘sir’ since his father died, unless maybe sarcastically.

“Good,” Mr. McCall said and in his own rigid way he actually seemed to mean it. “Some kids in your situation start to fall behind.”

“In his ‘situation’?” Scott said defensively.

“Foster care,” Mr. McCall said flatly. The conversation died out there and Mr. McCall seemed to push back against the hostility from his son. “I heard you were playing lacrosse, Scott.”

“Yeah. I was. We’re off the season now, but coach wants us to do cross country now,” Scott obliged and the air calmed.

“And is Stiles still playing? Well, is Stiles on the team?” Mr. McCall, sensing a safer topic, continued.

“Yeah, he is. I think he’s gotten a bit better, actually,” Scott said. “Isaac’s on the team too,” Scott said, hoping the mutual sport would stop his father’s assumption that Isaac was some criminal who murdered his own father.

“Really? I would’ve thought you’d be on the swim team, Isaac.” Ouch. Isaac couldn’t find the will to respond, thinking something much less polite than ‘sir’ would come out. “Your dad was the coach, wasn’t he? And your brother swam too, right?”

“He stopped coaching,” after my brother left and got himself killed, Isaac thought privately. Not to mention a kid covered in bruises couldn’t be on the swim team. Mr. McCall didn’t seem like a cruel person, strict, but not cruel, although right now in his carelessness, bringing up Isaac’s dead family, was definitely cruel in itself. “Before I started high school.”

“Well, I still feel like it would’ve made sense for you. You obviously come from a family of swimmers, if you’re anything like them you could’ve been good at it,” Mr. McCall had to know there was venom behind his words.

Don’t you fucking dare compare me to my father you son of a bitch, Isaac thought privately.

“Rafe, maybe you should tell us more about what you’ve been up to,” Melissa’s voice was cold, she also seemed to think that her ex husband was crossing a line.

“Not much. Been to a lot of nice places in San Francisco. Beautiful city,” Mr. McCall said with no feeling behind his words, he seemed more interested in grilling the nervous boy who he thought had no right to be there.

“Bet you’ve been to lots of nice bars there too,” Melissa spoke lightly but the words obviously struck a chord with Mr. McCall.

“How’s your job at the hospital, Melissa?” Mr. McCall began. “You’re working a lot of late nights, I bet. Probably why Scott’s gotten away with so much lately.”

Isaac felt his hands ball into fists and the beginning of claws taking shape, but Scott beat him to it, he stood, his chair flung back. This action alone shook Isaac out of it, he flinched back, his claws receding.

“You don’t get to criticize her like that,” Scott snapped. Isaac didn’t know how he managed to keep his powers under control when he radiated anger.

“Scott, sit down,” Melissa said.

“You haven’t been here, and worse - that’s a good thing!” Scott kept pushing.

“Scott,” Melissa’s voice sharpened and Scott obeyed, fixing his chair and sitting down heavily, his hands also balled tightly into fists.

“No, I think he’s right, Melissa, I shouldn’t be blaming you for Scott’s behavior, since obviously his lack of control seems to be his own fault,” Mr. McCall seemed properly angry now and Isaac found himself unable to move.

“Oh you have no idea how much control I have,” Scott’s words were sharp and Isaac and Melissa had to agree with him, somehow he still hadn’t turned.

“Yet you’ve already slipped. In a matter of months you’re getting yourself dragged into all this madness in this town! You’re spending an awful lot of time with murder suspects!” He pointed accusingly down the table at Isaac. “Now Stiles gets into trouble, but I could tolerate him. His dad may be a bad sheriff but I thought, hey! They seem like good people! But this? His father was bad, but this kid shouldn’t get away with murder and he shouldn’t be near my son!”

“Rafael, I think you need to leave,” Melissa’s voice was firm and as sharp as daggers. “I’ll walk you out.” She all but pushed him towards the front door.

“Okay, but once a week-” Mr. McCall was talking over his shoulder to her. “Once a week I get dinner with Scott. A deal's a deal.”

“Fine. You’re done for this week,” Melissa said. “You don’t get to be rude to my company.”

“You can’t pretend there aren’t dangerous implications-”

“Goodbye, Rafe,” Melissa shut the door in his face. She stood there for a moment before letting out a frustrated sort of huff. “Why does he have to be such a dick sometimes?!”

“Please tell me he isn’t allowed back,” Scott asked, his body finally relaxing.

“Scott, he’s just worried. Sometimes he’s careless, but he isn’t evil. And he’s still your father,” Melissa said pointedly. “He doesn’t know what’s going on, what did you expect him to think?”

“I don’t know how you deal with him,” Scott muttered.

“Because I’m an adult, Scott. I am mature and civil, even to my ex husband,” Melissa seemed to be trying to convince herself as well.

“Isaac?” Scott realized his housemate hadn’t moved, he still had his head down and his hands in fists. “You okay? Sorry, I know he shouldn’t have brought that stuff up… Isaac?”  
Isaac’s eyes were wide, staring down at nothing, he was perfectly still but he could feel his own heart racing in his chest.

“Isaac, are you okay?” Melissa gently reached out and touched his arm. Isaac immediately flinched back, he resisted the urge to go to his default position of curling in the corner and trying to cover his head. “He’s gone. And he wasn’t gonna do anything, alright? Rafe can be insensitive, but he wasn’t gonna lay a hand on you, you got that?” She knelt down and gently reached out and lifted his head so he would look her in the eyes. “What’re you feeling right now, can you talk to me? Do you know where you are?” Melissa knew what to do. She remembered when Stiles would be in one of the hospital chairs, down the hall from his dying mother and he couldn’t breathe. Melissa had helped him then and she would help Isaac now.

“I’m okay. I know I’m here. Not with… not with dad,” Isaac spoke softly.

“Can you take a deep breath for me, Isaac?” Melissa asked. Isaac realized he’d hardly breathed since the fighting had started. “A few more, please,” she breathed along with him and kept her hand light but steady on his shoulder. Scott stood anxiously behind them, unsure of what to do. “That was really good, Isaac. You didn’t turn or anything.”

“I’m okay,” Isaac felt as if he could move again and slumped back into his chair, somehow exhausted.

“Next time, maybe you should just eat in your room,” Scott said. “Sorry you had to deal with that, bud.”

“Not your fault, Scott,” Isaac leaned forwards, rubbing his eyes so hard lights felt pressed into them.

Melissa cleared away Mr. McCall’s dishes and decided they should eat in front of the tv tonight. Things calmed, but Isaac couldn’t felt but feel embarrassed by his panic attack, it seemed like that’s what it was, a panic attack. Any father figure, any tough seeming middle aged man shouldn’t make him nervous they way it did. Isaac could fight giant twin wolf monsters with the utmost confidence but the moment someone across the dining table started to criticize him he felt frozen. Too many broken plates and black eyes stood between him and bravery, but Ms. McCall and Scott had defended him. They had kicked out Mr. McCall before they’d decided to kicked him out and that was enough.


	15. Chapter 15

Isaac found himself alone in the kitchen some time past one in the morning after another nightmare. His father’s face, cold and emotionless, felt burned into his eyes. He sat at the island, head in his hands, his elbows cold against the counter top. Isaac tried to remember what Dr. Gallagher said, that things would be better now. That he had people who cared about him and things would be okay. Isaac heard footsteps on the stairs and couldn’t help but jump.

“Sorry, Ms. McCall I wasn’t trying to wake you,” Isaac mumbled.

“What’re you doing up, dude?” It was Scott.

“I could ask you the same thing. We have school tomorrow,” Isaac said.

“I… couldn’t really sleep. Same for you?” Scott said, he leaned against the back counter and Isaac could see how tired he was.

“Nightmares. The usual,” Isaac admitted.

“Hasn’t it gotten any better?” Scott sighed. That joy he managed to keep up during the day seemed faded.

“It comes and it goes,” Isaac shrugged. “What about you? What was keeping you up?”

“Just… stuff,” Scott said dismissively.

“From whatever happened that night? In the ice?” Isaac asked. Scott didn’t respond, he seemed lost in thought. “Deaton said things might be different for you guys. And that things would be drawn here. Have you felt any different?”

“I guess,” Scott said.

“You’re allowed to talk to me, Scott. God knows you’ve listened to me more than enough,” Isaac pushed.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve talked to Deaton about it,” Scott said. “There’s just… this weight. Not really a weight, just something. I still feel it, but I think it’ll get better.”

“Jeez, and you think I need therapy,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, how are you doing, Isaac? You’re still having the nightmares,” Scott changed the subject.

“Yeah, but I think I’m… better. I don’t know how to deal with all this peace and quiet,” Isaac said with a half laugh.

“Well, I said we’d do something and I meant it,” Scott said firmly.

“I think I’m gonna go back to bed, Scott. You gonna be okay?” Isaac said.

“Yeah,” Scott said with a half smile.

-

Isaac as always left for school earlier, preferring the quiet of the mornings giving him time to clear his head on the way to school. Junior year was… well. Hopefully going to be easier now. Isaac found Allison sitting outside, frowning down at her phone.

“Hey,” Isaac approached her, noting the way she jumped slightly.

“Hey,” Allison smiled in a way that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“What’re you doing here so early?” Isaac scuffed his feet and tried to find something to talk about.

“Oh, I was supposed to meet with my english teacher, to get some make up work for the past few weeks,” Allison shrugged. “But she didn’t show, so…”

“Huh. I feel like she should just give you a pass then,” Isaac sat down beside her.

“Yeah,” Allison said with that small laugh she had sometimes.

“You seem…” Isaac wasn’t sure how to approach it.

“I seem what?” She asked.

“A little miserable,” Isaac admitted.

“Just tired, I guess. Need some time to recover from the past week,” she told him.

“Yeah, I get that,” Isaac nodded along. He heard the roar of Scott’s bike coming down the street and found himself on his feet, standing away from Allison.

“See you at lunch, then?” Allison said, seeming a little bemused by his awkwardness.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac nodded before heading off to first period.

It felt strange to be alone again, last year, after Jackson told the truth, it had always been him and Erica, and eventually Boyd, causing trouble and skipping class… Now he genuinely found himself unwilling to cause trouble, well, too much trouble, because Ms. McCall was expecting him to shape up. Werewolf problems she could understand, cutting class for the hell of it she was less inclined to forgive. So, since two of his friends are dead and there were people counting on him to do better, he would sit quietly and do his work.

Lydia looked up from filing her nails, feet up on the desk, she gave him a smile before returning to her impromptu manicure. Maybe not completely quietly. Isaac sat in the desk beside her, fiddling absentmindedly with his pencil.

“Have you caught up on Mr. Curt’s lab work?” Lydia asked. “Stiles kept asking me for help. As if he can’t just do it himself,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, Scott and I finished it. Although sometimes I feel like I’m still catching up from last year,” Isaac replied. “So you’re not doodling trees anymore?” He asked her, the filing noise sharp in his enhanced ears.

“It sort of lost it’s relaxing quality when we found out what it was. Particularly when it’s going to lead all sorts of monsters and weird stuff here…” She sighed. There was a moment of quiet between them. Isaac still didn’t feel like they were quite friends, despite Lydia confirming it. “They’re different, aren’t they?” She said, her voice more serious than Lydia’s usual tone.

“Who?” Isaac asked, even though he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“You know who,” she said dryly. “They’ve been quiet lately, at least Stiles has. Sometimes he just stares off into space and I don’t know where he is. Allison is just so jumpy too. Like she’s remembering bad things.”

“Scott’s weird too. He hides it by trying too hard to be his usual self, but he seems… strained,” Isaac told her.

“You know it’s because of whatever happened to them that night, right?” She said.

“Yeah. I know,” Isaac’s mouth felt weirdly dry. “I don’t know if we can fix this for them. Maybe not at all.”

“Maybe it’ll just take time,” Lydia said.

“Yeah, just time,” Isaac said.

Their lunch hour arrived and Isaac still hesitated in the halls. He’d spent too many years sitting alone behind the building so it was still strange to have Scott wave him over to their table.

“Stiles, move down,” Scott said. With a grumble Stiles scooted closer to Scott.

“Thanks,” Isaac muttered.

“I was just telling Lydia and Allison about my idea,” Scott said.

“What idea?” Isaac said, taking a bite out of an apple and somehow making it brooding.

“That we should do something!” Scott said.

“Oh, you meant all of us. Should’ve figured,” Isaac said and he saw Stiles role his eyes.

“Yes, he meant all of us,” Lydia said teasingly. “I was thinking we should go downtown! Sure you wolf boys can’t get drunk, but that doesn’t mean we can’t.”

“Yeah but that wouldn’t be much fun for us,” Isaac told her.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind just dancing or something,” Scott shrugged.

“I guess,” Isaac said.

“Sounds like a nice idea, Scott,” Allison said. “But I think whatever Lydia wants to do is the best option.”

“Thank you, Allison,” Lydia said pompously. “I’m thinking lots of booze and lots of good music.”

“What if we just got together for a movie night? Or went to the ice rink again!” Scott offered.

“You mean the ice rink we fought on?” Isaac said.

“Yeah, the one I hallucinated Peter on?” Lydia said.

“Okay not the ice rink. I can’t skate anyways,” Scott mumbled.

“I like your first idea, Scott. But if we find the right club I guess I’d be cool with just hanging out,” Isaac said.

“Hah!” Stiles said.

“What?” Isaac said defensively.

“I just realized you and Scott are gonna be designated drivers for the rest of your lives,” Stiles grinned.

“I’ll leave you at the bar, I swear to god,” Isaac snipped.

“Yeah, but Scott won’t,” Stiles said smugly.

“Depends what you’ve gotten yourself into, Stiles,” Scott said with a lighthearted chuckle. It was nice to hear him laugh, especially in a way that didn’t feel forced.

“Hey!” Stiles gave his friend a gentle shove.

“I wonder if we could drink something else to get drunk. Like if pure rubbing alcohol would affect us,” Isaac said thoughtfully.

“Yeah i wouldn’t go and try that one,” Allison said with a sigh of playful annoyance.

“I’ll ask Deaton though, just in case,” Scott leaned around Stiles and fake-whispered to Isaac.

“Seriously?” Stiles said exasperatedly between them. “You both are gonna die. Driving drunk is going to become the least of our concerns if you two start chugging rubbing alcohol.”

“Yeah well that jeep alone is worse than drunk driving,” Isaac pointed out.

“It’s okay now!” Stiles tried to defend himself.

“I think that’s what we’re worried about, that thing should’ve gone off to the junkyard before you crashed it,” Lydia said with a laugh before taking a swig of her water.

“You guys better stop being rude to my baby,” Stiles said crossly.

“God, if you call that thing your baby I’m worried about the fate of your actual children one day,” Isaac continued to tease.

“Says the guy that walks everywhere,” Stiles snapped back. Technically it was still teasing but somehow between them they always ended up bickering.

“Yeah well sorry if I couldn’t afford a car when I worked most nights and didn’t make any money,” Isaac drawled.

“What do you mean? Graveyards don’t pay?” Stiles said sarcastically.

“Not when you’re working for your shit father,” Isaac muttered before taking another rueful bite out of his apple. “Guessing he needed my paycheck to pay for more plates and mugs,” he said with a harsh laugh.

“Okay, you’re playing that card. I can’t shoot back at that in good conscious,” Stiles said awkwardly, turning hopefully to the others to find a less pathetic turn in the conversation.

“So, have you seen your dad much?” Lydia offered to Scott, hoping in vain it would kill the annoyance between Isaac and Stiles.

“A bit,” Scott said hesitantly. “He’s still a dick,” he said with more certainty. Isaac smirked at that.

“Is he staying at your place?” Allison asked.

“Hell no. Mom wouldn’t let him stay for more than a few hours, let alone sleep in our house,” Scott scoffed. “Besides, where would he sleep? We don’t have a guest room anymore and we wouldn’t want him ruining our couch.”

Isaac felt a strange warmth in his chest hearing Scott say ‘we don’t have a guest room anymore’ instead of ‘someone’s staying in our guest room’. It helped solidify the fact that Isaac lived with them rather than he was just crashing there for a few months until they figured out where to send him.

“Speaking of, what’s he think of Isaac living with you guys?” Stiles asked. 

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, “well…” Scott began, “he doesn’t actually know yet.”

“Are you serious?” Allison said.

“He’s gonna find out eventually,” Stiles said.

“I know,” Isaac snapped. “I think he’s figured it out pretty much already.”

“Not quite. He would’ve made a big fuss about it if he did,” Scott huffed.

“Great. Guess we’ve got that to look forward to,” Isaac muttered, twirling the apple core between his fingers.

“God, we can’t get away from a gloom fest with this one, can we?” Stiles scoffed, nodding at Isaac who returned the look with a sarcastic smile.

“You two should just shush. We were trying to plan something fun before you started bickering,” Lydia scolded.

“What do you think, Lydia?” Scott tried to shift the conversation once again. “I know your birthday party wasn’t up to your… usual standard, but you still know the most about this stuff.”

“Well, since some of us don’t want to have a proper party, and I think some down time would be good for all of us, I’ll figure out something small,” Lydia spoke confidently.

-

Isaac spent the rest of the day doing his best to focus in class, which was an annoying task that made him nostalgic for the days of his… well, “bad boy” phase. Eventually he found himself walking home, Scott had to stay after for a bit to make up a quiz, so Isaac slogged through the chilly but not too cold California rain. He turned up the collar of his jacket and felt grateful for his scarf’s protection. Isaac heard a familiar struggling roar of an engine pulling up beside him.

“You, uh, you walking home?” Stiles shouted out to him.

“Yep,” Isaac called back, eyes determinedly ahead and head buried behind his scarf against the slight wind.

“Oh, just get in,” Stiles said, seeming annoyed by his own offer.

“No need to burden yourself,” Isaac called sarcastically, although he was rather chilled despite California’s persistent warmth under the cool rain.

“God, Isaac! Just shut up and let me be nice to you! Please?” Stiles said almost angrily.

Isaac, with a little reluctance, got into the right side of the miracle jeep. Miracle not in it’s quality, but in the fact that it was still humming. Isaac felt the urge to give Stiles one last biting retort but couldn’t quite bring himself to when Stiles was going a little out of his way to take him home. Stiles continued down Circle street, Isaac glanced at the dash and saw Stiles was pushing fifty.

“Uh, Stiles, we’re in a thirty mile zone,” Isaac told him.

“Yeah?” Stiles glanced over at him before squinting at the speed limit sign ahead, he seemed to be struggling with it.

“It says thirty, Stiles. Actually, it was twenty, back in the school zone. You’re still going over though,” Isaac told him, unable to keep the snark out of his voice.

“Oh,” Stiles looked at the dash himself, frowning at the speedometer.

“Eyes on the road, Stiles,” Isaac said firmly, growing concerned at how distracted his friend- well, his friend’s best friend was becoming.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles didn’t even bother to snap back as he tried to focus himself. “Is this better?” He checked with Isaac, seeming to trust him more than his own eyes.

“Better, but you’re still going over thirty,” Isaac told him, snark gone under his worry. “Can you… can you not read it, Stiles?” Isaac asked slowly.

“What?” Stiles said distractedly. “No, I’m-I’m fine. Stop talking, you’re distracting me,” Stiles tried to shut him up by returning to their usual bickering tones. There was an awkward silence as Isaac continued to keep an eye on Stiles’ speed. His concern for Stiles did not fade, not that he would admit that to anyone.

“How’s your dad dealing?” Isaac tried to find a safe subject besides Stiles’ obviously concerning state of being.

“How’s he dealing?” Stiles said shortly.

“With you know, the truth about everything?” Isaac continued, unable to keep his tone out of a sarcastic drawl any more than Stiles could keep his voice unclipped and irritated.

“Alright. He seems a little distracted though,” Stiles’ aloof distance from Isaac seemed to fade into a momentary openness. “Keeps on pouring over old paperwork and spending late nights at the office despite not having any big cases right now.”

“I’m sure he just needs to adjust,” Isaac found himself trying to comfort Stiles.

“Yeah, well. Have any of us actually adjusted?” Stiles scoffed.

“Fair point,” Isaac said with a dry laugh.

Stiles turned down the McCall’s street and stopped outside of the familiar house. The rain had only picked up. Isaac got out, hesitating on the curb.

“Hey, Stiles?” Part of him couldn’t bring himself to thank Stiles. “Drive slow,” he spoke eventually.

Stiles seemed surprised by this but couldn’t think of a clever retort, instead he just nodded before pulling away, the jeep whining faintly the whole while. Isaac walked up to the house, unlocking the front door on autopilot and his mind still in the jeep. He didn’t know why conflict seemed to always happen between him and Stiles, and he couldn’t see that stopping but… he was starting to think that maybe in their own weird way him and Stiles were friends too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting/reading! Comments are as always much appreciated.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So from my understanding the few weeks between part 1 and part 2 is probably winter break in beacon hills, so the next few chapters will be during that timing. Which means yes, Isaac will have Christmas at the McCall house!

“Isaac! Get up, Lydia wants us to meet her at Allison’s in an hour,” Scott said a little groggily at 10 am Saturday morning.

“Please tell me she didn’t sniff out another body,” Isaac grumbled.

“No, I think she wants us all to hang out,” Scott said.

“Great, even worse,” Isaac buried his head into his pillow. “Midterms are next week. Shouldn’t we be studying?”

“Mom brewed coffee. Come on,” Scott shuffled down the hallway. “And that also means it’s almost winter break!”

Isaac climbed out of bed, leaning against his door frame and trying to wake up. Werewolves had too many late nights. Although… he didn’t remember any nightmares. He shuffled downstairs to see Scott eating cereal on the couch. Isaac got himself some black coffee and sat down across from him, feet curled underneath him on the sofa.

“You know, I don’t see why baseball is called an all American sport,” Scott spoke with his mouth full, watching the dull daytime tv of some random game. 

“Lacrosse is way more interesting,” he said.

“You’re biased,” Isaac rolled his eyes at his housemate.

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” Scott said with that little mischievous smirk. There was a knock on the door. Scott let out annoyed huff. “I told him not today.”

“Hm?” Isaac asked, confused.

“Just, I’ll tell him to clear off,” Scott went to the door and Isaac had a guess of who it was.

“Scott,” Mr. McCall frowned at his son. “You can’t keep ignoring me and we agreed that Saturday was my day with you.”

“Oh I’m sure you made mom agree to that, but I didn’t,” Scott snapped.

“Well since I’m here maybe you’ll have to agree anyways,” Mr. McCall stepped inside without invite. “Ah. Isaac,” he stopped, staring at Isaac settled in in his pajamas with a McCall mug in hand. “Is this what made you cancel?”

“No, actually. We have plans with some friends today,” Scott said, arms crossed, leaving the front door open in the hopes that his father would turn around and walk out.

“Oh? So important you would cancel on the one day we were supposed to spend time together?” Mr. McCall replied.

“No, but sounds a lot better than being stuck with you,” Scott said.

Isaac snickered, enjoying the morning show as Scott refused to cut his father any slack.

“Is this about Isaac?” Mr. McCall said.

Isaac froze, lowering his mug, “whoa, whoa. No need to bring me into this.”

“No need to bring you into this? That’s a little hard when for some reason you’re always here,” Mr. McCall said shortly.

“Dad, back off,” Scott said sharply, his hands balled into fists.

“What, is there something you don’t want to tell me, Scott?” Mr. McCall said. He stared between the two boys, seeming to be thinking very hard. “So… your mother told me you’re no longer with that girl Allison,” he said slowly. “If there’s a reason you don’t want to explain to me why Isaac is here, if you feel like you can’t tell me about your relationship-”

“What? Dad! No! It’s not like that!” Scott’s cheeks flushed red and Isaac suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“Really? Because if that’s the issue I won’t be mad-” Mr. McCall continued to push.

“No! Dad, Isaac just lives with us!” Scott blurted out.

“He... what?” Mr. McCall said and Isaac wasn’t sure if he was angry or just shocked but he felt himself tense away regardless.

Seeming to now deeply regret his decision Scott tried to stammer out an answer. “I mean, he just-” After a moment Scott seemed to regain a sense of composure. “Yeah, dad! Isaac lives with us and he’s one of my best friends! And I am so glad he’s the one staying here instead of you!” Scott almost growled at him. 

“And your mother… she agreed to this? To let him live here?” Mr. McCall said.

“Yeah, because unlike you she isn’t a shit parent!” Scott said.

“You don’t talk to me like that, Scott,” Mr. McCall snapped.

Isaac would have liked to stay out of the McCall infighting but what Mr. McCall said, his tone, it struck a chord with him. Isaac stood, standing just behind Scott’s shoulder. He said nothing but Scott seemed to stand taller with his presence.

“I think you should go, dad,” Scott said. “I’m tired of you showing up and being a dick to this family.”

“I’ll be back, Scott. We still need to discuss things. When your mother is home,” Mr. McCall turned and left through the still open door which Scott slammed it behind him.

“Thanks, Isaac,” Scott said.

“It’s fine. I actually thought him finding out would go a lot worse,” Isaac sighed.

“I don’t think it’s over yet. He probably wants my mom to be here when he really throws a fit,” Scott muttered.

“Spectacular,” Isaac sighed.

“Come on, my dad is the least of our problems if Lydia thinks we aren’t showing up,” Scott said.

They got dressed and met downstairs, both wondering if Ms. McCall was in for a fight when they got home.

“You’re late,” Lydia said testily, answering Allison’s front door as if it were her own.

“Sorry. Dad troubles,” Scott rolled his eyes and entered the apartment, Isaac lurking like a tall, slouching shadow just behind him.

“What happened?” Allison asked, sitting up from the couch immediately, her eyes first looked to Scott before her concern turned to Isaac as well.

“I’ll explain when Stiles gets here,” Scott said, flopping onto the sofa across from her.

“He said he was on his way ten minutes ago,” Lydia huffed.

“Maybe his jeep finally failed him,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, well I have faith in that jeep,” Scott said. “Kind of.”

The front door was opened by Stiles who came in entirely unaware of his lateness.

“What’s up?” He asked the group.

“We’re doing something fun,” Lydia sniffed, taking this as more of a project than a nice day out.

“That’s exactly what I was afraid of,” Isaac slouched back in his seat.

“God, you say that like I don’t know you and Stiles would drown in any social circle,” Lydia said. They had all realized those kinds of quips were Lydia’s version of casual endearment. “I’m thinking we get dinner together. And I want us to have a secret santa this year. And since drinking is out of the question for our wolf boys, I thought we could go out and do something after? Go to the movies or something.”

“Bowling! We should go bowling!” Scott burst out.

“So we’ve ruined the ice rink so you think bowling will go better,” Isaac said.

“Bowling?” Lydia said sceptically.

“I’d go bowling,” Allison said in a way that made it seem like she was mostly trying to humor the enthusiastic Scott.

“Okay,” Lydia sighed. “Dinner and bowling.”


	17. Chapter 17

“What’re we going to do until then? It’s only one,” Allison asked.

“Well I’ve been wanting to go shopping. How about we go to the mall this afternoon?” Lydia offered. The boys groaned. “You don’t have to come! You can sit around here and wait for Mr. Argent to come home.”

“Fine, fine. But we’ll go look at stuff somewhere else, I don’t feel like following you two into Victoria’s Secret,” Stiles said.

“Fine,” Lydia snipped back.

“Do you remember how it went the first time we went bowling?” Allison said to Scott as they left the apartment for their respective cars.

“Yeah, I kicked Jackson’s ass,” Scott said.

“Except now I know you were cheating,” Allison teased.

“Well now it’s more of a fair game. Isaac and I can cheat,” Scott said.

“You say that like it makes it fair for the rest of us,” Stiles said.

“Well, we could have a wolf on each team,” Scott said.

“Hey, airhead, you do realize no matter what we do it won’t be even? Three against two,” Isaac said.

“Allison and I are both really good!” Lydia said.

“What about me?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t think you count,” Isaac pointed out.

“Oh yeah that’s real clever,” Stiles said sarcastically. “As if you could bowl without your little wolf bite.”

“Okay, since Stiles does actually count, maybe we could do humans against wolves?” Scott offered.

“Humans and a banshee against wolves,” Lydia added.

“What’re you gonna do, predict the pin’s death?” Isaac said. Lydia shot him a look.

“I think that could work! But where are we going for dinner?” Allison said, they lingered in the parking lot, realizing they hadn’t planned far enough ahead.

Or at least most of them hadn’t thought of it.

“Downtown, that little french place on Main? The French Laundry?” Lydia said, rolling her eyes a bit. “Did you really think I didn’t have that part figured out yet?”

“Okay, but did you factor in that not all of us are upper middle class teenagers who get a check from mommy dearest every month?” Isaac asked.

“I take offense to that, Lahey, and it is a restaurant, but one that I know won’t break any bank accounts,” Lydia said.

“I worry our definition of affordable is different, Martin,” Isaac countered, feeling hyper aware of the fact that all of his spending money came from the kindness of Ms. McCall. The graveyard unofficially fired him when he was a fugitive and it wasn’t like he’d had the opportunity to see if his shit father left him anything.

“Hey, don’t worry about it Isaac,” Scott said to him softly, somewhat away from the group. He seemed to have guessed what Isaac was worrying about.

They kept on reminding him that he wasn’t a burden, but whenever he looked back all he could see was everything people have given him. From the beginning when he’d worn Derek’s old leather jackets over whatever clothes he had gotten from Isaac’s old house to the days when Scott let him borrow stuff when he duffle bag of clothes wasn’t enough. And then most recently Mrs. McCall had come home one day with cardigans and scarves as the weather got colder. He couldn’t stop thinking about how little he deserved their support. Maybe he should get a job somewhere, although considering the way their werewolf responsibilities threw them around and how hard school was as is he doubted he’d be able to keep up.

“Do you want to ride with me so you aren’t squished onto Scott’s bike?” Allison offered.

“Why would we take three cars and a bike?” Lydia scoffed. “You two can just ride with me,” she said. “Do you guys all want to ride with me and then come back and get yours later?”

“We’d be a little cramped,” Stiles said, glancing at his jeep like it was a sixth friend in their group he was being asked to leave behind.

“Suck it up, you three can fit in the back,” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Why waste the gas? Think about the environment and stuff.”

“I’m okay with that. It’s getting cold on the bike anyways,” Scott agreed. He was always so at ease, willing to go along with his pack so much he felt more like just a friend than an alpha. Except when it came down to a fight, that is.

Isaac moved towards the front seat, hoping to avoid being squished next to the others in the back seat.

“Allison is riding up front with me,” Lydia cut him off.

“I am?” Allison asked.

“Yes, you are. I want my best friend to ride up front, is that so weird?” Lydia said a little testily.

“Fine,” Isaac sighed.

He got into the back to see Stiles getting in on the other side, Scott was waiting outside for one of them to move to the middle. They stared at each other, Stiles seeming entirely unaware of the fact that he was trying to bully a werewolf into squishing in the middle.

“Could one of you just move?” Scott said, seeming annoyed standing outside in what qualified as an early December chill in California.

“Claustrophobic,” Isaac pointed out.

“Oh that’s your excuse?” Stiles said huffily.

“Yeah, it’s my excuse,” Isaac snapped.

“Fine! One of you get out, I’ll sit in the middle!” Scott burst out, the girls staring back at the three of them impatiently from the front.

Stiles clambered out so Scott could a little grouchily sit in the middle. Although Isaac and Stiles sort of appreciated the buffer between them. There was a mall downtown, on Falls street, which Lydia didn’t really consider up to her standard but it was somewhere to go. And it was normalcy, which regardless of quality they found comforting.

Isaac still wasn’t very happy being stuck in the cramped back seat but at least he was near a door. Feeling a little ill and knowing it wasn’t car sickness, he cracked the window, trying to remind himself of how close open spaces were. Lydia began putting on lipgloss in the rearview mirror and Allison scolded her as she drifted from the lane. Scott asked her to turn on the radio while Stiles talked to both no one and everyone about how the new chemistry teacher didn’t have it in for him. Isaac felt calmer.

“Okay, Allison and I are going to be down by Macy’s, want to meet in the food court in a few hours?” Lydia said as she walked towards the busy mall, holding the confidence of someone truly in her element. Lydia Martin broke stereotypes of a shallow popular girl but sometimes she loved to fulfill them, knowing well that shopping wasn’t shallow, just something she was very good at.

“So, what do you guys want to do?” Scott said, entering the main hall with its tall ceilings a little less confidently.

“Why don’t we just get some food?” Stiles said, obviously smelling the fried pretzels from the food court.

“We’re going out to dinner in a few hours,” Isaac said dryly.

“I need to do some christmas shopping anyways, my mom wanted some new shoes for work, hers are worn through and her feet hurt,” Scott said, looking towards the stores ahead.

“You know my dad says the old mall was a lot nicer,” Stiles said as he trudged beside them towards a store that screamed middle aged woman, perfect for Ms. McCall.

“You mean the one we fought Deucalion in and thought we lost Derek in?” Isaac said.

“Well I’m sure it was a lot nicer before it closed,” Stiles said mockingly.

“Isaac, do you think she’d want clogs? I know a lot of nurses wear them because they don’t hurt your feet so much,” Scott frowned at a rack of shoes near the front of the store.

“What? I don’t know,” Isaac said, a bit startled that Scott had asked him.

Scott laughed, “do you think she would appreciate these?” Scott held up a pair of clogs with the design of a moon on one and a wolf on the other.

“Yeah, really witty,” Stiles teased.

“Jesus Christ,” Scott muttered, staring at the price tag which bluntly had ‘$79.99’ in an almost antagonistic font. “Maybe I’ll just get her another pair of sneakers.”

“You’re gonna buy your mom sneakers for christmas? Sneakers? God, Scott I haven’t had a mom since I was little and even I know you don’t buy your mom sneakers for christmas,” Isaac scoffed.

“Wasn’t expecting to say this but I’m with Isaac on this one, even we know you don’t buy your mom sneakers,” Stiles agreed.

“Okay well, unless you want me to go home after this and skip out on dinner and bowling I can’t afford these and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but my mom isn’t a ‘pretty necklace’ kind of lady,” Scott said.

“I’ll help you,” Isaac muttered with an eyeroll before pulling a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket. So he wasn’t broke, but he wasn’t doing great either.

“No, Isaac you don’t have to-” Scott began.

“Just take the fucking money Scott and don’t buy your mom sneakers,” Isaac said.

“Well, it’ll be to her from both of us then!” Scott said grudgingly, taking the money which he found totalled to forty eight dollars. “Here,” Scott returned eighteen. “For dinner and stuff.”

Isaac nodded, shoving the money into his pocket, slouching as usual.

Scott bought the shoes, the woman at the counter eyeing the three teenage boys a little bemusedly, wondering why they were in a store whose demographic was over the age of thirty and female. Scott thanked Isaac again and they headed out.

“Now can we get food?” Stiles said hopefully.

“Fine, we’ll go to the food court now, but try and remember we’re getting food soon,” Scott told him.

“Yes!” Stiles said, heading determinedly for the pretzel stand.

“So, are you an alpha or a mom?” Isaac scoffed as they followed Stiles with less enthusiasm.

“You say that like I’m not getting food too,” Scott said, following his best friend with that delighted glimmer in his eyes that he seemed to have whenever he was happy.

Isaac realized if anything he was the mom as he followed the two losers he’d been trying to keep alive since last year. He was still wondering how they survived on their own.

“Isaac! Do you want something?” Scott checked in with him as they waited for their food.

“No thanks, I try not to eat garbage every meal of the day,” Isaac said with an eye roll.

“You can’t act like you’re better than us because you eat an apple every day, you know that’s just sugar, right?” Stiles said, his mouth now full of fried dough.

“It’s still fruit. Which I have a feeling is healthier than the school’s breadsticks,” Isaac said, slouching back into one of the food court’s plastic chairs.

“Isaac, you can’t pretend your healthy, you actually ate my mom’s cooking, what do you think that is besides carbs and grease?” Scott pointed out.

“Well I’m sorry if I don’t want to be rude when your mom tries to cook for us,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, tries to, doesn’t succeed,” Scott said. “God, this is why you’re gonna be her favorite.”

Stiles snorted at that and Isaac felt a laugh get caught in his throat. Her favorite. As if he’s a second son, a part of the family. Isaac couldn’t adjust to that. To the idea that the McCalls were permanent. That it really was home. The thought of signing up for the SATs and going on college visits with them, hell, the fact that it seemed like he would be with them for Christmas just felt so foreign to him. Not a bad feeling though. Definitely not bad.

“God, Lydia, did you buy out the whole mall?” Stiles looked over Isaac’s shoulder in slight horror.

Isaac turned around and saw Lydia Martin poking out from behind a small forest of shopping bags. Allison also carried a few but it seemed that even some of those belonged to Lydia.

“How about instead of making fun of me you pretend to be a gentleman and carry some of them?” Lydia said stuffily.

Despite Stiles’ teasing he jumped at the chance to help her, making Isaac wonder if Lydia was oblivious to the smell of desperation coming off of him or if she just ignored it.

“Just, crush it down! They’re just clothes!” Lydia said testily as she forced the three boys to try and cram her bags into the trunk.

“‘Don’t waste the gas, let’s just take my car!’ God, Lydia did you have to buy a whole new wardrobe?” Isaac said mockingly as Stiles struggled to close the lid.

“Isaac, please be quiet or we’ll put you in the trunk instead,” Lydia said with an eyeroll. Isaac tensed, wondering anyone had noticed. Whether Lydia had noticed she did seem to realize what she’d said. “Shit, sorry Isaac. That was a stupid thing to say,” Lydia Martin genuinely apologizing proved how seriously she took it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac shrugged it off.

“I can ride in the back,” Allison said and this time Lydia didn’t object.

Feeling both sheepish and a little guilty from the attention Isaac leaned back into the front seat, his long legs folded up in front of him. Why did he always feel so ashamed when other people cared about him?

“You sit like such a boy, you know that? Why is it that every guy tries to practically lay down in a car?” Lydia teased. Isaac relaxed, feeling glad that the mood had lifted and his friends didn’t feel the need to treat him like some delicate child.

“Have you ever gone there?” Scott asked Allison about the restaurant they were pulling up to.

“Why would I have?” Allison asked quizzically. “Because my family is french?” Allison scoffed. “I’ve never even been to Europe, Scott.”

“Just wondering,” Scott said with a halfhearted pout.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe,” Isaac surprised himself by participating in the conversation outside of sarcastic remarks.

“Yeah? Maybe you could go track down Jackson in London,” Lydia joked.

“I’d love to. I’ve got a lot of unresolved anger towards that asshole and I could kick his ass in London just as easily as I could here,” Isaac said, thinking fondly back to when he and Erica had helped kidnap him and poisoned him with kanima venom.

Lydia had thought to make reservations, because of course she had, and the hostess seated the somewhat out of place group of teens in a restaurant nicer than the fast food place one would expect.

“Could I get some drinks for you guys today?” The young waitress began.

“Yes, I’d like to see your wine selection,” Stiles said, his whole expression radiating desperation rather than confidence.

She flat out laughed at him, “sweetie, I don’t think you’re old enough to drink coffee without permission, nice try though.”

Isaac laughed as Stiles seemed affronted by the woman’s bluntness.

They ordered drinks - Stiles grumpily asking for a coke - and got to looking at the menu. Isaac felt relieved that there were options cheaper than fifteen dollars.

“Uh, Scott, you do realize that’s the kid’s menu, right?” Allison pointed out.

“They didn’t have chicken strips on the other one,” Scott said quietly.

“What?” Lydia asked him to clarify even though everyone could hear him.

“I said they didn’t have chicken strips on the other menu!” Scott snapped. Stiles snorted on his coke.

“Scott, we’re at a french restaurant, there’s actual good food here, and you’re going to get junk off the kids menu?” Lydia said with a resigned sigh.

“Hey, this is supposed to be fun for us so I’m gonna get what I want,” Scott muttered.

“Scott, does it come with crayons?” Stiles said, looking over his shoulder at the paper kid’s menu.

“Shut up,” Scott blushed and elbowed his best friend sheepishly.

“What’s Vichyssoise?” Isaac asked quizzically.

“It’s a soup,” Allison said.

“What’s in it?”

“I think potatoes and onion and stuff,” Allison said. “I think I’m getting the tarte flambée.”

“Lydia, couldn’t you have picked a restaurant that at least had the menu in english?” Stiles said.

“Just because the names are french doesn’t mean the menu isn’t in english,” Lydia said testily.

They ordered their food and Isaac slouched back and just let the simple conversation and casual bullshit from Stiles wash over him. Being out of the house all day was a little exhausting for him, but it felt easy just to rest while his friends filled the silence. Their food arrived and the waitress seemed to be trying not to laugh at their mess of a table again when she placed Scott’s food in front of him. Isaac choked on the slightly sludgy soup. If you could call it that, it wasn’t quite cold, maybe luke warm.

“It isn’t hot at all,” Isaac sputtered.

“It isn’t supposed to be, you idiot,” Lydia said with an eyeroll.

“Cold soup? What the hell?” Isaac grumbled.

“Have some of my food,” Scott offered, shoving his fries across the table.

“You guys are such a mess. The three of you,” Allison laughed at them.

Following a somewhat disappointing dinner they headed for the bowling alley, a mood which they fit into much better than some french restaurant.

“That’s your third strike, Scott and you’re telling me you aren’t using wolf powers?!” Stiles almost shouted in frustration.

The past hour had consisted of Stiles dragging down his team while Scott and Isaac ever so humanly managed to keep an almost perfect score.

“Stiles, are you even trying?” Lydia sighed as Stiles managed to again get the ball in the gutter.

“No. Actually I’m not trying, but once I do start trying the wolf boys better watch out,” Stiles said, trying very hard to line it up down the center. “Ha!” Stiles said, as every pin but one fell.

“God, you’re pathetic,” Isaac said with an eyeroll.

“Prove it then, no wolf powers!” Stiles said, throwing the bowling ball at Isaac with a lot of effort. Isaac caught it without any. “I mean it.”  
Isaac rolled his eyes and, with ‘no wolf powers’, got a strike. “Come on, Stiles. Even you should be able to bowl.”

“That almost sounded like encouragement, Isaac,” Stiles said. “You better be careful or else you’ll lose that tough guy credibility.”

“Doubt it,” Isaac said with a smirk Stiles could only see as threatening.

“I still can’t tell whether you guys are actually arguing or not,” Scott shook his head at the two of them.

“Best just to assume yes,” Allison said.

“Always,” Stiles added. Isaac felt all the more convinced by this notion that he and Stiles were most definitely friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm writing this so Isaac can get a better ending and story, if any of you have something to do with Isaac's recovery or relationships that you'd like to see I'd be happy to consider it! Right now what I have planned is continuing his therapy, a Christmas with the McCalls, and maybe a little misadventure with the rest of the pack.


	18. Chapter 18

“I’m sick of it,” Isaac told Dr. Gallagher the following session. “I’m sick of being afraid of the stupidest shit.”

“How often do you experience anxiety because of your claustrophobia?” Dr. Gallagher started with the facts.

“I don’t know. Whenever I’m closed in anywhere and can’t get out. Does it matter? I just wanted it to stop,” Isaac said. “I want to get over it.”

“Alright, Isaac. You’re old enough to make that decision. Before we start anything I’m going to talk to Ms. McCall,” Dr. Gallagher began. “But I’d be happy to start discussing our options with you right now.”

“Options?”

“Well, when it comes to getting over a phobia there are usually two methods we could try. The first is referred to as flooding, where we fully immerse you in your fear all at once, but considering your history I think the second option would be safer, exposure therapy. We would ease you into your fear and let you progressively adjust to it over the course of a longer period of time,” she explained.

“Okay, when do we start?” Isaac said, finally sitting up, desperately hoping maybe he could get the fuck over it, over whatever this is that’s followed him for so long.

“We could start now. Not formally, of course. But if you’ll let me I’d like to start with shutting the door,” Dr. Gallagher crossed the room and shut her office door for the first time since Isaac had been going there. Isaac took a deep breath. This was going to be hard.

Ms. McCall fully supported it, seeming more focused on whether Isaac really wanted to. “Do you think you’re ready for this? I mean, we’ll understand if you don’t want to expose yourself to this kind of thing so soon.”

“So soon? I’ve been scared since I was a kid. I’m tired of being that scared all the time,” Isaac’s voice shook a bit, just underneath that stony surface he had fought so desperately to uphold.

“It’s alright, Isaac,” Melissa put her hand on his shoulder. Isaac didn’t know why the simplest thing, just talking about how fucked up he was left him choked up. “We’re so proud of you, you know that? You’re doing so well, sweetheart. You’re doing the right thing,” Melissa spoke softly, pulling Isaac close with one arm.

“I’ve got so much shit to deal with,” Isaac’s voice trembled and knowing it was just Melissa and Dr. Gallagher he didn’t try to mask it. “I don’t think I can get through it all it’s just pressing in on me and it won’t stop suffocating me.”

“I think this was enough for today,” Melissa told Dr. Gallagher.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, Isaac. We’re all very proud of you,” Dr. Gallagher left her own office so Melissa could help Isaac put himself together enough to leave.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t promise him that things would be fine or that he was being so brave or any of the other standard bullshit. She just held onto him. Isaac didn’t cry, his breakdowns rarely took on such a standard set up, he just sat there, shaking slightly, feeling painfully aware of the fact that there was no reason for him to be upset outside of the fact that things were this bad all the time. All the time he felt this weight and lived with this fear and sometimes it just was too much and for the first time since he was little he had a mom to just hold onto him.

“Do you want to go home?” Melissa asked him quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah we can go,” Isaac stood up, forcing himself to put some distance between them. Being close to someone, let alone a mother was still frightening to him.

“Scott’s father called me the other day,” Melissa had planned on bringing this up after the session because Isaac was usually calmer then. Regardless of that not being true today she had to talk to him before the storm blew in. “He isn’t a bad man. He’s just worried and really he is still convinced you’re the primary   
suspect in your father’s murder. He plans on talking to me about things. Regardless, he does not get a say in whether or not you stay under our roof. Only Scott and I do. So no matter what Rafael worries about or what he might argue, you’re not going anywhere, okay Isaac?”   
Isaac nodded mutely in response.

“If Scott has worried you, remember that his experience with his dad in recent years hasn’t been the best of Rafe, so he’s a little biased,” Melissa continued, glancing at him in the passenger side.

“I’m okay, Ms. McCall,” Isaac said.

“Hey! How’d it go?” Scott called from the living room when they arrived home.

“Good. I think,” Isaac frowned. “I think we’re gonna try and get me to get over the whole claustrophobia thing.”

“Dude, that’s great!” Scott turned back to face him with that approving Scott McCall smile.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll stop me from turning in a janitor’s closet and killing your girlfriend,” Isaac said with a dry laugh.

“That was one time,” Scott actually defended him. Isaac calling Allison Scott’s girlfriend seemed to have warmed the air between them a bit. “Come’re. Stiles said I had to do his english report if he gives me the answers for the precalc test coming up.”

“And how did he get those answers?” Isaac asked.

Scott shot him a look. “I think we both know better than to ask that at this point.”

That night Isaac felt hyper aware that it was nearing Christmas. This time of year was going to be hard. The year before he had had Christmas with his dad, if you could call it that. Derek hadn’t gotten him out until february. That meant he’d spent over two weeks at home with no one checking in on him. Yeah, that had been bad. It was every year. Even now with his prospects looking unimaginably better it was hard not to think about the fact that his entire family was dead. His brother had been gone for three years. Oh god, this year it would be four. He’d survived three years with his dad. Isaac went to his window, taking a moment just to breathe fresh free air. He’d survived three years and he’d spent almost a whole year as a werewolf. And some of that time as a fugitive. And more recently, and honestly strangest of all, a few months under the roof of the McCalls.

Soon enough, Christmas with the McCalls. Christ, Scott said they were going to get a tree this weekend. He hadn’t had a christmas tree, not even a fake one, since his mom died. The idea that christmas break meant time to rest and avoid stress rather than a time when no one would question Isaac not being seen for days on end. Isaac shuddered, unable to sleep now as thoughts of the past few decembers returned to him.

Part of him hated thinking about his family, not just his dad either. His mom just left him with heartache, somewhat convinced that if she hadn’t died none of this would’ve happened. And his brother… guilt. As well as bitterness. Part of him felt like his brother had abandoned him and then he would feel guilty considering the fact that his brother just wanted a way out. He hadn’t planned on dying. Really Isaac thought he would’ve done the same thing. Although regardless his brother had willingly left him alone with his father. That created some of that resentment. He’d spent years waiting for Camden to come back for him only to finally realize that no one was coming for him. Least of all his dead brother. His father was different. The man he had been stuck with for the past few years felt so incomparable to the dad who had been with their family when mom was alive. It was confusing to feel wistful for that man while knowing the same one had caused so much of his suffering. Ah, christmas. He hadn’t expected the holidays to be all jolly but it didn’t make the pressing reminders of family any easier to cope with.

“Goddamnit,” Isaac muttered, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

“Isaac?” Scott mumbled from the hall.

“Yeah?” Isaac couldn’t help but jump. “What’re you doing up?”

“Just, uh, had to pee. Why’re you up?” Scott asked him.

Isaac was quiet for a moment. “Do you ever remember how things were before?” Isaac’s voice was weak. “With your dad?” He stared blankly at the window, a little unseeing. “Do you remember how your family was? How you were? And… do you just miss it?”

“Sometimes,” Scott said and Isaac wasn’t sure if he believed him.

“No. Because you’ve never had to worry about that much, have you, Scott?” Isaac struggled to keep the bitterness from his tone. “You’re an only child. Mom and dad are still kicking and not only that but the one that stuck around was the good one.”

“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” Scott didn’t know what else to say.

“Is every year like this, Scott?” Isaac asked. Scott didn’t respond. “You just hang out with friends and shop for your mom and… and you’re not scared? Not even a little?”

Scott wasn’t great with words, at least with things like this, all he knew how to do was act. So he stood by his friend and held onto his hand. Isaac turned to face him.

“I… I hate how much I miss them,” Isaac said, still deeply unsteady. “Even my father. How fucked up is that?”

“It’s okay, Isaac,” Scott spoke softly and he wasn’t sure if he could believe himself.

“Bullshit. They’re all dead. I didn’t see dad buried. I don’t even know if I wanted to. And… we never even got Camden’s body,” Isaac fell forward into the shorter boy’s arms. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be now.”

“I don’t know, Isaac. But we’re here for you while you figure it out,” Scott said, holding tightly onto his beta, because yes, Isaac was his, and his beta hadn’t stopped grieving.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning because Isaac discusses some of his memories of his father. Nothing outside of canon, all based on lines and things from the show.

“Have you bought something for your secret santa?” Scott said from the kitchen.

“No. I have no clue what to get him,” Isaac muttered. “I have Stiles. What the hell am I supposed to get Stiles?”

“Oh. I have Allison. So it shouldn’t be too hard, but I don’t want to get her something boring, you know?” Scott said.

“Just get her some more knives, I’ll get Stiles string for his crime board, and we’ll call it done,” Isaac said, burrowing further back into the couch.

“Yeah, maybe. You had lunch yet?” Scott asked.

“Lunch?” Isaac had been awake for just over an hour.

“It’s one, Isaac. You haven’t eaten yet?” Scott asked. “Barely into break and you’re already sleeping away the day.”

“God, you sound like your mother, and if it’s one I got to head out,” Isaac got up.

“Wait, you should eat something before you go,” Scott slid the sandwich he’d just made across the counter towards his housemate.

“Yeah, fine,” Isaac knew Scott wouldn’t stop bugging him until he did.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Scott seemed more nervous about the exposure therapy than Isaac did. Although really the anxiety would only set in for Isaac when he was there.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” Isaac said dismissively.

“Okay, well do you know what time I should pick you up?” Scott asked through a mouthful of food.

“You don’t have to-”

“Well you know I’m gonna do it anyways,” Scott said teasingly. “So what time?”

“Give it an hour,” Isaac sighed.

“Do you know what’s gonna happen?” Scott seemed more nervous than he was.

“We’re meeting in a smaller office,” Isaac said quietly. “To start. And I know it’s really stupid but I feel like I’m gonna freak out.”

“How bad is it gonna get?” Scott asked. “Like, she’s not planning on putting you back in a freezer, right?”

“I’d like to see her try,” he was only half joking.

“Don’t… don’t do anything you aren’t ready for, okay Isaac?” Scott said.

“You worry too much,” Isaac told him.

-

“This is different,” Isaac said stiffly. The room was more like a closet. With two chairs positioned opposite each other.

“It was this or I could lock us both in my office,” Dr. Gallagher pointed out.

Isaac thought of locked doors and his experience with Allison months ago, “it’s fine.”

“I am going to shut the door though, but you can leave if you need to,” Dr. Gallagher shut the door behind her and Isaac felt himself flinch. “How’re you feeling, Isaac?” She sensed his tension.

“Fine,” the rigidness in his voice said otherwise.

“I thought after all our sessions you’d actually decide to be honest with me,” Dr. Gallagher said coolly.

“I’m okay,” Isaac sat down, he fiddled with his hands anxiously.

“Nothing bad is happening, Isaac,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Isaac scoffed. “It-It doesn’t change the fact that I’m freaked out,” Isaac felt a lump in his throat.

“Please try and steady your breathing. Breathe with me,” Dr. Gallagher took slow steady deep breaths, hoping Isaac would follow.

“Yeah, yeah,” Isaac felt himself being dismissive and irritated in his panic. The room felt smaller.

“Isaac, do you feel the need to get up and open the door?” She asked.

“Obviously,” Isaac snapped.

“Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in a room for a therapy session and I’m freaking out,” Isaac said.

“If you get too overwhelmed you can open the door. There’s no shame in that,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“No,” Isaac was stubborn as ever.

“Are you okay to start the session?” She asked.

“What?”

“A good way to distract yourself is to treat this like a normal session,” Dr. Gallagher 

“Yeah, fine,” Isaac still seemed more focused on the close walls and shut door than what she was saying.

“Isaac, focus on me. Tell me how you’ve been feeling,” she pushed.

“How I’ve been feeling? Like shit. It’s almost christmas and I just feel worse,” Isaac sighed, his agitation still strong.

“This understandable, Isaac. People who have dealt with what you have often find holidays afterwords hard,” she told him.

“Yeah no shit,” Isaac couldn’t help but be harsh. It was his only move to deflect the fear rising inside of him.

“Talk to me about something else, Isaac,” she didn’t chastise him for his rudeness and just moved onwards.

“I just keep on thinking about the worst stuff,” Isaac sighed, slouching back.

“What kind of stuff?” Dr. Gallagher asked.

“Just… old times. Old people,” Isaac said. “Christmas. And not a the hallmark card holidays with the matching pajamas and the tree and all that bullshit.”

“What comes to mind? What do you want to tell me about?” She tried to get him to open up. Even just a bit.

Isaac struggled to bring such memories to the foreground of his mind. “I… I don’t really remember last christmas. Not the day of, anyways. I…” Isaac laughed coldly. “I failed my algebra exam. Because- guess fucking what? Dad was pissed at me the night before exams, I forget why, so… well. Let’s just say I didn’t sleep much that night,” Isaac paused, holding back a shiver and somehow the room felt even smaller. “Because of that one night, locked up, in the… in the freezer. I failed an exam. And when my dad found out...” Isaac’s fists balled tightly and he knew he was shaking.

“You don’t have to relive these memories, Isaac. You only have to talk about what’s weighing on you that you need to let go of,” Dr. Gallagher spoke carefully.

“Yeah, well. Every memory I have ends up weighing on me,” he said dryly. “I spent a lot of days in the freezer. Over that break. And the times my dad let me out he wouldn’t let me leave the house. So I think christmas must’ve happened while I was locked away,” he said. His mouth felt dry. “It always gets rougher the longer I’m down there. The longer I was down there I mean. I just would get so thirsty and it just made the panic even worse. I wouldn’t be able to breathe and my head would just pound. God, and some days it was messy. The fucking blood under my fingernails and how all I could smell was either metal or blood. Hell, once, back in the beginning when I was I don’t know, fourteen? I got so hysterical I made myself sick. My dad left me down there for the whole weekend in my own vomit. Blacking out didn’t help because if I was asleep when my dad finally let me out he would get pissed. Telling me it wasn’t a break it was a punishment and I was being even more of a pathetic, lazy son than usual,” Isaac just kept on talking and he wasn’t sure if it was helping at all but once he got started it was like he couldn’t stop. Bitterness pouring out and him being forced to tackle the fact that he had thousands of horror stories to share.

“Isaac?” Dr. Gallagher spoke gently as her patient had grown silent.

“Sorry,” Isaac shook himself.

“No, it’s okay. I’m here to listen. Are you okay to continue?” She checked with him carefully. In a way that seemed cautious, but held none of the fragil treatment Isaac hated. It was patronizing. She wasn’t.

“And a few times when it was bad I would just be thrashing around, destroyed my fingernails and then I’d end up slamming my head into the walls of it. My dad could deal with the screaming. I don’t think he could hear it from upstairs, but when he found me with my head all bloody I think he thought I was gonna kill myself. And I don’t think it was because he actually cared it was just because it would be impossible to take care of my body,” Isaac’s mouth had taken on a bitter taste. He hated his father but he also loved him and it made him sick. “After that he’d get the chain, and not just to wrap around the freezer,” Isaac remembered the way his blood had run cold as his father had told him to get the chain and ‘get in the damn freezer’. “I was his fucking kid and he chained me up like a dog. Said it would stop me from being able to hurt myself. I don’t know if it really made a difference I just know it made it even harder to breathe. If it wasn’t his hands around my neck it was a fucking chain.” Isaac was quiet then.

“Isaac?” She asked.

“I feel sick,” he said.

“You’ve done really well for today,” Dr. Gallagher said. “There’s still fifteen minutes left in the session. I’m going to keep the door ajar for that, okay?” 

“Yeah. That’s fine,” Isaac agreed, his eyes burning holes into the floor.

“What made those specific memories come to mind?” She asked, her voice calm and even at ease despite the fact that this teenage boy had just told her in plain detail that his father had wrapped a chain around his neck for hours on end. Isaac preferred it to the way everyone else seemed to squirm uncomfortably at the mention of his childhood.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s the part that I know was really fucked up,” Isaac said.

“Do you think the rest of it was as well?” She asked.

“What?”

“The way your father spoke to you. Threw things at you. How does that compare to when he took you downstairs?”

“I know it wasn’t right, but it just seemed like every day life then. The basement was more like once a week or so, so it felt more like something to be afraid of. I mean I spent all my time trying to keep him happy hoping nothing would happen. But if he just hit me once or broke a few mugs… I just felt relieved,” Isaac said.

“That made sense, I suppose. What really matters is that you do not apply this logic to your life now. If someone hurts you, Isaac. Please try not to justify it by expecting the worst,” she said. Dr. Gallagher knew there was no way for her to change the bitterness of his memories, at least not then, but she could try and make sure he didn’t allow himself to fall back into the abusive patterns he thought so casually on.

“Is it bad that my dad was my anchor? That he grounded me?” Isaac asked, hoping for something to justify the feelings he despised so much.

“It depends, Isaac. What about your father anchored you?” She asked. Isaac didn’t answer. “If it was the fact that your father beat you and locked you up, then yes. It is very bad.”

“No, I don’t think so. It was stuff from when I was really little. When mom was around,” he told her. The beginnings of wistfulness forming behind his eyes.

“Do you separate your memories of your father then from the more recent ones?” She asked.

“I think so. It was like he became a whole other person when mom died, so, yeah. I do,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with valuing what could have been, Isaac. As long as you don’t let it prevent you from moving forward.”

“All I’m doing is trying to move forward.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! I know this is short, but it'll also give you guys something to look forward to! Thanks for your patience!

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Allison said.

“It’s the seventeenth. Not quite christmas yet,” Stiles pointed out.

“It’s our Christmas you idiot,” Lydia teased. 

“Scott, did you wrap that yourself?” Stiles held back a laugh as he stared at the messily taped together nightmare.

“Isaac said I had to do it myself,” Scott muttered, staring ruefully at Isaac’s wrapping.

“Of course he did,” Stiles said with an eye roll.

“Hey, at least I didn’t just throw my gift in a bag,” Isaac huffed.

“It’s a gift bag! It is for gifts!” Stiles snipped.

“Will all three of you just stop?” Lydia said. “We are all going to be merry and have a good time!” She demanded. “I decorated my living room, I got food, and I let all of you into my house so god help me this is going to be fun.”

“Lydia sometimes I wonder if you understand the meaning of the word ‘fun’,” Isaac said, earning himself a glare from the redhead.

“Everyone, swap,” Lydia said before thrusting a fancy parcel into Scott’s hands. Scott handed off to Allison, Allison to Lydia, and Isaac and Stiles were left staring at the other’s offered present.

“Lydia, this isn’t how it works. Everyone is supposed to get a different person,” Stiles said.

“Well I thought considering your special friendship this might be a good idea,” Lydia said smugly.

“Here,” Isaac muttered, tossing his gift at Stiles who shoved one back.

“Wait wait,” Lydia said as they began to pull them apart. “We’re going in a circle. Scott, why don’t you start,” she said proudly.

“Whoa, Lydia, this is awesome,” Scott said sounding a bit in awed. An incredibly sleek, black motorcycle helmet now rested in his hands.

“I thought with your whole new look and your tattoo you need a better bike helmet,” Lydia said, obviously very satisfied. “Allison, your turn.”

“Aw, Scott! These are beautiful!” Allison cooed as she carefully unwrapped the dozens of shining and engraved arrowheads Scott had gotten for her. Scott blushed furiously.

“I’m glad you like them. They’re balanced and all that so they should actually work,” he said endearingly.

“Stiles,” Lydia turned to the next person in their little circle.

Looking still a bit grudging Stiles tore into Isaac’s present. “...String?”

“For your crime board,” Isaac said indignantly.

“And a book,” Stiles frowned. He read aloud the title. “‘One thousand great detective tales and their strategies’.” His eyes lightened with a barely masked interest and he skimmed the table of contents. “Shit. It’s got all the big ones. Al Capone, the Unabomber, Patty Hearst.” Stiles even sounded moderately impressed.

“I only understood half of those. It got really good reviews on amazon,” Isaac muttered.

“Thanks, Isaac,” Stiles actually sounded genuine.

“My turn!” Lydia cut in, opening the large gift bag from Allison. “Aw, Alli! It’s exactly what I wanted!” The boys watched unphased as she pulled out a lot of makeup which they were hopeless to identify.

“It’s exactly what you asked for,” Allison said with a teasing laugh.

“This is why you’re my best friend,” Lydia said happily.

“Guess it’s my turn then,” Isaac said with a sigh. “A scarf,” he said dully.

“Three scarves, actually,” Stiles pointed out offendedly.

“Thanks,” Isaac said. He would be polite. And he would wear them as well.

“Wait wait I’m not done,” Stiles said in that stubborn sort of incredulous voice he seemed to have much too often. “There is a part two to your little gift but I wasn’t sure if it would freak you out or not. And I did check with Scott and he didn’t know either.”

“Christ, Stiles, what did you do?” Isaac said, rubbing at his temples where a headache seemed to be forming.

“Hey, don’t knock it yet,” Stiles said sharply. “Technically the gift part is in the trunk of my jeep but I guess I should check with you before we head out.”

“Stiles,” Isaac said almost dangerously. “What. Did. You. Do?

“Nothing yet!” Stiles said defensively. “So. My idea was, well, since you’re doing your whole therapy thing I thought up my own version of therapy. Would you… would you wanna burn some of your dad’s shit?” Stiles asked awkwardly. When Isaac didn’t respond he continued sort of rambling. “You don’t have to. I just thought if you wanted to vent and destroy some shit… I got some lighter fluid we could even drag the freezer outside and destroy that.”

“God, why does everyone seem to know about my shit?” Isaac muttered.

“Great. You don’t like it. I thought it was a good idea!” Stiles said defensively to the rest of the group who seemed a bit uncomfortable.

“It’s not that, it’s just I’m not used to other people bringing this shit up. Not that I mind, really. Better than people trying to run circles around it,” Isaac said. All the while he was mulling over the thought rapidly. While the idea of fucking obliterating some part of the bullshit his dad had inflicted on him sounded pretty damn good, he wasn’t sure about how it would feel to be back in that house or near those things.

“Isaac? You don’t have to,” Scott interrupted his thoughts.

“No. I want to,” Isaac heard himself say. “Stiles, that’s the best gift yet.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Okay, I had dinner planned but I guess this is fun too,” Lydia said somewhat grudgingly as they drove towards Isaac’s old neighborhood.

Isaac’s hands fidgeted intensely in his lap. Each street and path sent terrible waves of familiarity up his spine. He did not like the road home. Scott put a hand on his shoulder from the neighboring seat, like he could sense is anxiety. It wasn’t the road home anymore. He had to remember that. Isaac jumped when the car pulled into his driveway. God, did he really want to do this?

“Isaac?” Scott pulled him from his thoughts.

“I’m good. I’m good,” Isaac said, hastily getting out of Lydia’s car.

The house stood like a mausoleum. Silent as the graveyard he and his father had once worked in. No one would dare move into this house. Not with it’s reputation scattered around the basement. Lydia seemed to be staring at the Whittemore’s house with the same sense of trepidation. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a key, would you?” Stiles asked.

Isaac laughed. “I usually didn’t have one when I lived there.”

“I asked my dad to keep the force off our backs tonight, but I don’t know if we should just go breaking into your house,” Stiles said nervously.

“How do you think I got in? Just stayed outside and slept on the porch?” Isaac rolled his eyes before walking confidently around to the side of his house.  
Then he stopped. It had been so long yet that swoop of anxiety had returned to him. So many nights where his father had decided he’d come home too late. That the only way he was coming inside is if he went right downstairs. So he’d curl up outside, sometimes on the porch, waking up freezing with bugs crawling all over him. Until he had eventually learned to always keep his window cracked.

“Isaac?” Allison spoke carefully. He realized all his friends were just staring at him as he stood frozen on the side of the house.

“Yeah, y-you just climb up on that edge there,” he pointed it out.

“I’ll go unlock the front door,” Scott said, he held onto Isaac’s shoulder when he walked by, climbing up into his old room.

“You don’t have to… I’m sorry man, if I’m making you do this,” Stiles had rarely sounded so genuine talking to Isaac.

“No. If anything this counts as exposure therapy,” he said with a dry, forced laugh.

“Come on, let’s go around front,” Lydia said.

Once they got there Scott was already standing back on the porch.

“I bet I could pick up the freezer on my own, you don’t have to come inside,” Scott said nervously.

Why was everyone so nervous? Isaac couldn’t help but wonder exasperatedly despite knowing exactly why.

“I can go inside, Scott,” Isaac said scoffingly even though the thought of stepping back inside that house left him with his hands balled into fists to prevent them from shaking.

God that smell. Dustier and staler than he remembered but still, the smell of their house. Detergent and dirt. A mix of the filth they’d brought into this house and their vain attempts to clean it up. The kitchen was the same way it was that night. The picture knocked off the wall. Plates in a pile of shards and mugs in cracked remains against the wall. Isaac could see the events through the mess. He hoped his friends couldn’t. Stiles must have said something to him.

“Isaac?”

“What?” He snapped.

“Where’s the basement?” Stiles said.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Scott muttered, pulling Stiles away. For once Stiles didn’t snap back at him.

“Isaac. If you don’t want to go downstairs with them, you could get some of your old stuff from your room while we’re here?” Allison interrupted his thoughts. Her voice sounded oddly gentle.

“Yeah. Sure,” Isaac walked ahead of them, his hands restless at his sides.

His old room. Isaac’s first instinct was to turn on the light. His second instinct was to shut the door behind him and wedge the chair next to it underneath the door handle. There hadn’t been locks on the doors of this house in a long time.

“Sheriff Stilinski knows we’re here. It’s okay to turn on the lights,” Allison said.

The light switch didn’t work. The power must be off. Lydia handed him the flashlight kept on her keychain.

“I don’t need it,” Isaac said quietly. His eyes were different from the last time he was here.

Instead of putting together clothes or favorite books like they seemed to expect he just stood and stared. His bed was unmade. He never really had to make it but a few times his father would yell at him over it, just because he would be looking for an excuse. God, there was homework still on his desk from last year. He hadn’t really worried about it when he’d become a fugitive. His clothes were laid out on his desk chair for the next morning. It was always easier to get ready and get out as fast as possible.

He realized his clothing had changed. Before it was always long sleeves and sweatshirts. Whatever would keep himself covered and unnoticeable. Then there was the middle ground where he wore Derek’s old leather jacket every day, now he wasn’t so sure. Wait, he wondered… Isaac found himself looking under his bed behind a set of drawers. A strange sense of fondness came to him for his old self. A jar of peanut butter, granola bars, and a few water bottles. As well as a roll of gauze and a bottle of painkillers. Necessities from his old life.

“Isaac? We could go check on the boys, if you want,” Allison asked. It was her way of asking if he wanted to be left alone.

“Yeah. You should make sure they haven’t found a way to get into trouble down there,” Isaac said, trying to use sarcasm so they wouldn’t hear the weakness in his voice.

“Come on, Lydia,” Allison pulled her friend away, deciding they’d find the basement on their own.

Isaac sat back, leaning against the end of his bed. He felt smaller than he had in a long time. Despite being familiar with the hallway outside his doorway it still gave him a feeling of fear with his door open. Like his father would come storming inside like an apparition. He found his vision blurring as they watered and he felt little need to choke it back. His chest ached but he wasn’t sure why. How could it be grief? This life wasn’t worth grieving but how could it be anxiety after all this time away? He didn’t know what he was feeling.

A thud from the basement made him jump, the fear rattling through him so violently it was like all his nerves were consumed by static. The static took its time fizzling out but he reminded himself mentally where he was now. Not physically, but in life. His father was dead. He was dead. His father was the only one who hurt him like that, he didn’t need to be afraid anymore. Easier thought than felt.

Isaac got to his feet, unable to bring himself to take anything with him, and headed to the basement. Once he reached the top of the stairs he found himself unable to move.

“Do you want to take this conversation downstairs, Isaac?

Isaac, are you walking downstairs or do I have to drag you by your hair?

Don’t whine and beg, Isaac. You make a mistake, you get punished. It’s that simple.

Are you not hearing me, son? Get in the damn freezer!”

Isaac couldn’t bring himself to walk downstairs. The smell of the cold, damp air reminded him of metal boxes, chains, skin hitting skin, sometimes a belt, his father, yelling… Isaac couldn’t move. He couldn’t move he was paralyzed, god, why did he agree to this?

“Isaac? Bud, you okay?” Scott called up to him and Isaac felt himself stumble back, his hands instinctively going to cover his face before he came to his senses.

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine,” he lied.

“I think I can move it myself, Stiles, get the lid,” Scott said. “Isaac, we’ll take it out back! Allison and Lydia are gonna get the gasoline from the jeep!” He called up and Isaac quickly tried to compose himself as the girls came up.

“We’ll get Stiles’ baseball bat too,” Lydia said with a smile. “You’re gonna give em hell, I promise you that.” Isaac realized now they had all seen that freezer. They had seen the chains coiled on the floor with his scratches dug into the concrete. He refused to allow himself to feel ashamed.

Isaac found himself walking downstairs, almost against his own will in a trancelike state. The familiar shapes of all the junk his father had decided to lock away with his son caused his heart to race. His hand held onto the railing of the stairs so tightly his knuckles turned white as if he were expecting a foot on his back throwing him down the rest of the way.

“Isaac, what’re you doing down here?” Scott abandoned the dented freezer to his housemate frozen on the stairs, looking as if he were about to faint.

“I’m fine, don’t touch me,” Isaac spoke harshly when Scott reached out to him.

“Dammit this was a bad idea and it’s my fault,” Stiles sighed as he struggled to heave the broken lid of the freezer into his arms.

“For once in your life Stiles shut up this isn’t your fault,” Isaac said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t move. “I… I shouldn’t have come inside,” Isaac could still speak. His eyes moved frantically around the darkened basement, they lingered on the pockets of the floor he knew contained desperate scratches from a boy screaming and pleading for mercy as his father dragged him towards a freezer.

“Stiles, could you go get your bat?” Isaac said quietly.

“Y-Yeah,” Stiles dropped the sheet of metal and practically ran up the stairs away from the disturbingly silent werewolf.

“Isaac, talk to me,” Scott spoke carefully. “Do you need me to get you out of here?”

“No, Scott. What I need is for everything that ever happened in this house to not have happened. Seeing as even you, the perfect Scott McCall, can’t make that happen, all I need is Stiles’ bat,” Isaac said, his voice harsh and cold to cover the trembling in his limbs.

“If you want to burn anything we should take it outside-”

“We can burn it later, Scott,” Isaac didn’t know why he was so angry. “I-I need to destroy more than just the freezer. This whole fucking room is wrong. I just, I need to tear it apart.”

Most of the objects in the room besides what his father had used to punish him consisted of his childhood. From before mom died. It was old toys and furniture. Sure, there was the broken tv that his father had punched moments before punching him and yes the reason half this stuff was down here was because his father hated it almost as much as he’d hated his son but anyone else might’ve taken some of the old family pictures or anything that didn’t hurt him but Isaac hated everything down here. It had grown tainted by the hours of abuse and violence which had occurred there more than anything else.  
God, did they have any idea the fear and pain it takes for a human to dig their nails into concrete? The fear that outweighs the pain of tearing apart your own fingernails in the hope that somehow your father would stop? 

Isaac flinched, stumbling against the railing as Stiles came thundering back down the stairs, metal bat in hand.

“I-I got the bat,” Stiles said nervously. Isaac nodded, refusing to look him in the eye, and just held his hand out expectantly, not realizing claws had formed there. “Isaac?”

“Come on, we’ll come back for the freezer later,” Scott murmured before pulling his best friend hastily away from the bomb about to go off.

Once the footsteps of the two boys had vanished and Isaac could no longer hear the anxious whispering from the kitchen it was like a roaring had overcome his ears. Whether it was blood pounding there or some sign of madness Isaac felt his chest struggle to capture air. As his grip on the bat tightened he swung it with all his inhuman strength at the nearest pile of garbage that he once dared to consider his life.

The sound of wood splintering and glass breaking rather than comforting only pumped more adrenaline into his veins as he continued to destroy everything in sight. The wardrobe his mother had loved. Its door shattered under the bat. The crates his dad used to store tools in. Torn apart. His brother’s old toys. Anything glass almost exploded under the force of the bat but Isaac did not feel the shards that tore at his skin or the level of violence that he was reaping which caused the palms of his hands to tear and heal. Tear and heal. Over and over.

“You can get the freezer now,” Isaac caused his friends to jolt nervously as he dropped the bat with a clatter onto the kitchen floor.

“Isaac, you’re bleeding,” Allison said, eyes wide.

“Not anymore,” his hands were slick with blood that hadn’t receded due to the constant rehealing. His face had the ghosts of shards of glass outlined in streaks of blood. Staring at the kitchen, he remembered glass piercing his cheek from the cup his father had thrown at him.

“Come on,” Stiles pulled Scott back to the basement, knowing Scott, who stood with a strange look of horror, would be unable to move himself.

“Isaac…” Allison seemed at a loss for words.

“I don’t want to hear it. Let’s just go out back. Might as well do what we came here for,” Isaac refused to look at them and went to the back yard. The grass had grown out of control here. He sat on the back steps, his hands sticky now as the blood dried. He didn’t feel better.

With much huffing and complaining, the boys chucked the dented freezer onto the lawn. Isaac flinched when it hit the ground. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Without talking and without asking for the gasoline he approached the pathetic hull of metal which had terrorized him for so long. There were so many nail marks. Products of hysteria still beaded with tried blood. Even for a werewolf he didn’t know how he found the strength but with a terrible grating sound he ripped the freezer in half. Scott’s own panicked damage from a year ago helped. He didn’t keep tearing at it like he had in the basement. He just did enough damage that he knew it would never trap anyone ever again.

“What’re you waiting for? Let’s soak it and light it so we can all go home,” Isaac said.

Without questioning him the girls took to drenching the metal in gasoline. Lydia didn’t even bother to complain about the smell.

“Here. You do the honors,” Stiles handed him a matchbook. 

The sound of the match scraping to light filled the strange silence they all shared and Isaac tossed it onto his old tomb. Scott stood on one side. Allison took to the other. Their shoulders pressing against his as they watched the metal char underneath the burning fuel. All the tension that had consumed his body the past hour left. Not because the freezer was finally destroyed, but because of that feeling of his friends supporting him and somehow understanding that despite all the pain released today, this didn’t make things okay. But somehow, just having them there. All of them, even Stiles, made it hurt a little less.

Stiles broke the silence. “So, uh. I also brought marshmallows but now I’m starting to think that’d be a little inappropriate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was really important for me to have Isaac return to either his house or another abusive environment just to be able to express some of that pain, as well as for his friends to be made aware of how severe that was. I'm really proud of this chapter even though it is an angsty one, and I hope that the bad feelings of this chapter will help lead into some good feelings later. I hate asking for comments but considering how many ways Isaac expressed his trauma in this chapter, I would appreciate any feedback on what you thought of it! How effective or realistic it was, or what it made you feel, that sort of thing! Thank you all for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

“Good night, guys. That was fun, I think,” Stiles said before pulling off in his jeep. “Have a good christmas!”

“Bye, boys!” Lydia said.

“Allison, do you need a ride home?” Scott asked, seeming unaware that three people could most definitely not fit on the back of his bike.

“Nope. I think we’re having a girl’s night,” Allison said, putting her arm around Lydia. “Now you two scram. It’s late,” Allison teased the two of them.

“Good night,” Scott said and put on his new helmet with incredibly obvious pride.

They couldn’t talk over the wind but Isaac could tell Scott wanted to speak to him. Great.

“Slow down, Isaac,” Scott stopped him from hurrying inside. “I…”

“What? You just wanna know that I’m okay after having a mental breakdown in front of everyone?” Isaac’s words came out cold.

“Well, yeah. Are you okay?” Scott seemed hurt but he knew there were more important things to discuss first.

“No. Not really. But what’re you gonna do about it Scott, huh? Maybe I let something go back there and maybe it’ll help me somehow but right now I don’t feel any different. If anything I just feel like I’ve lost whatever sense of privacy I had before. Which wasn’t much considering this entire town knows about the freak who might’ve killed his dad,” Isaac raved and kicked over the potted plant on the porch which Scott immediately caught.

“Hey, it’s okay. No one thought you destroying your dad’s house was gonna fix anything. You know they’re not judging you for what your dad did. Not Allison, not Lydia and yeah, not even Stiles,” Scott tried to find the right words.

“I don’t think they’re judging me, Scott. As if my biggest concern is what your fucking friends think of me,” Isaac could only express what had happened to another person through anger. Regardless of whether or not he meant it. Before Scott could object he continued, “what I actually care about is the way I fucking felt in that house. I couldn’t breathe, Scott. There’s something so wrong with me. I couldn’t move and when I could I just kept on hitting things over and over and I didn’t stop even when I was hurting myself. What kind of person loses control like that?” Isaac’s voice had waned to a tone of pleading. As if somehow Scott could tell him how a sudden bang in his old house set his nerves on fire with the terror of it.

Scott didn’t know what to say so as always he didn’t say anything. Instead he just held onto his friend. It seemed so stupid. Scott felt like he could never help him so he just would hug him instead. Even worse Isaac thought it did more helping than anyone bullshitting him with the idea that everything would be okay.

“And hey, guess what buddy,” Scott said quietly once Isaac had steadied himself. “They’re your friends too, like it or not.”

Isaac laughed tiredly before pulling away. “God, we need to go to bed.”

“Yeah, well. You’re probably tired from hulking out. We heard you breaking shit, you know that? I’m surprised you didn’t bring the whole house down on top of us,” Scott teased.

“Shut up, Scott. It was very therapeutic.” 

They clambered inside still teasing one another. Isaac stared with a strange feeling in his chest at the Christmas tree still glowing in the living room. When he dug up rations of food from when he was too scared to go to the kitchen or his dad wouldn’t let him eat, that he could pinpoint as fondness, which made perfect sense. But somehow he was unsettled by a fucking christmas tree.

“Few more days,” Scott said, mistaking his staring for excitement.

“Yeah. Few more days,” Isaac repeated. “Scott… I…” Isaac couldn’t bring the words out. He couldn’t tell Scott he couldn’t be alone tonight. He was incapable of asking for help.

“Whatever it is, just talk to me, bud,” Scott, oblivious, good intentioned Scott, couldn’t tell what his friend needed.

“Good night,” Isaac said, going upstairs before he changed his mind. He wouldn't sleep tonight. Not with the smell of his old house and the feeling of dried blood still on his hands sending him back to a state that he wished would just leave him alone.

“Isaac-” Scott began but Isaac slammed the bathroom door before he could finish.

God, how was Scott acting so normal when he had fucking dried blood on him? Isaac looked so gaunt. No wonder everyone looked at him like the goddamn town tragedy. Isaac washed his trembling hands until the water stopped running pink. Maybe this entire night wasn’t good for him. He shouldn’t’ve agreed. He thought back on the picture frames shattered under his bat and a sudden sickness entered his stomach. He didn’t have any pictures of his mom or his brother. Nor his dad, obviously, but that felt like less of a crime. But… if he had brought any of those pictures here, anything from that basement, whenever he looked at it he would be on the basement floor, clawing desperately, his eyes locked onto the junk in that room. He had memorized what felt like every detail all from his consciousness’ attempts to distract from whatever punishment his father was inflicting.

Isaac, while now alleviated of blood completely, he did not feel clean. Isaac listened at the bathroom door, wondering if Scott was lurking outside in his plans to talk about things. Hearing only silence Isaac rushed to his room, a strange, flighty feeling which reminded him of his old home once again. Isaac shut his door and, after a moment of thought, did not lock it. Locking it would be a defeat. A resignation to his old fears. Part of him realizing that his instinct to lock the door was a resignation in itself. He would not sleep tonight, not with adrenaline still lingering in his veins from merely crossing an old threshold. Finding himself unwilling to even get changed he simply pulled of his jeans and collapsed onto his bed. It didn’t smell like the McCall’s anymore. But… it didn’t smell like his old home either. He couldn’t say that his sheets smelled like him because as if that was pinpointable beyond his wolfish abilities. He used the McCall’s soap and laundry detergent and wore the new clothes bought for him. Really, humans did not seem able to detect a person’s smell. Only the smell of what they surrounded themselves in. Isaac couldn’t find any part of the horrors of his old life in this house except for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to update more regularly, even though this is short. I also wanted to share some changes to how I expect the rest of this fic to go. Originally I was going to stop it right before part 2 of season 3 and maybe have an epilogue take place after the canon ending of the show. But there are now a few parts of part 2 I'd like to address and I'd like to have some adventures of Isaac in France. Of course, that section would basically be Isaac, Mr. Argent, and a bunch of Argent ocs. But the idea of Isaac trying to settle in in a house full of foreign hunters especially after Allison sounds interesting!  
> Hope it interests you as well!


	23. Chapter 23

It was the eve of Christmas eve when the ever so traditional parental fighting began. Mr. McCall decided he would have Scott on either Christmas eve or Christmas day.

“Mom! Tell him I don’t have to!” Scott said, adamantly defiant.

“Scott, this is for your mother and I to decide,” Mr. McCall tried to shove him out.

Isaac, who had been about to come downstairs to help with dinner before Mr. McCall had arrived, instead sat on the second floor landing, slowly hitting his head against the top banister. He did not want to listen to this, but he wasn’t comfortable leaving Scott and Ms. McCall with no backup, if they should need it.

“He gets a say, Rafe. He’s old enough to decide that. Now I won’t stop you from seeing your son but you can’t come waltzing back in here after years and expect to take away a holiday from me,” Ms. McCall was obviously trying to be the mediator but she didn’t seem to want to give her ex husband christmas, eve or day, either.

“Well I get a say too, Melissa. I’m not asking to take both days, but I do want to have christmas with my son,” Mr. McCall attempted to level his voice despite Scott’s anger starting to get on his nerves.

“If you want to have Christmas with Scott, why don’t you have it on the 26th? Or some other day? I’ve been having Christmas with Scott for sixteen years now and I don't intend to stop now. You stopped years ago, Rafe,” Ms. McCall’s words were cool and biting.

“Fine. But I want the whole weekend with him. You can keep your two days as long as I get two in return,” Mr. McCall said. Isaac could see Scott’s pout without being downstairs.

“That’s fair, Rafe. But it’s Scott’s decision. I will back you up on one day but you’ll have to bargain with Scott for two,” Ms. McCall said.

“Mom!” Scott said incredulously.

“Scott, it’s one weekend,” Mr. McCall said, obviously satisfied with what he had gained.

“It’s one day, dad. No way I’m spending the whole weekend with you,” Scott snapped.

“How about this, either the whole weekend or I get Christmas eve,” Mr. McCall argued.

“I don’t know about that, Rafe,” Melissa warned.

“I am still his father and you are his mother. You need to back me up on these things, Melissa!” Mr. McCall snapped at her and Isaac’s hands balled into fists.

“You don’t talk to her like that!” Scott retaliated for him. “You get Sunday or you get nothing, you got that?”

“Melissa, help me out here-”

“Scott is old enough to decide for himself. I don’t need to say it again. If he says one day, it’s one day,” Melissa said firmly.

“This discussion isn’t over,” Mr. McCall said although Isaac could tell he was being herded towards the door.

“It is for now, Rafael,” Melissa said sternly. Isaac heard the front door slam and slowly went downstairs.

“So… Sunday, huh?” He said cautiously. Scott let out an annoyed huff that sounded somewhat like a growl.

“Yes, but we’re spending Christmas as a family,” Ms. McCall called after her grouchy son. Isaac’s stomach fluttered at the words ‘as a family’.

“Come on, let’s get dinner together before Scott’s blood sugar sends him on a rampage after Rafael,” Melissa teased. 

The McCalls did not cook very often. Melissa would work late and Scott found himself incompetent with cooking alone, although Isaac thought he wasn’t too bad with some help, and Isaac was used to cooking dinner. The McCalls deeply appreciated this. He and Scott had made a risotto. Scott making the rice and Isaac well, doing everything else. The three of them seemed settled into their rituals. Even Isaac found it less strange and more comforting now. It wasn’t like he did much cooking at Derek’s. Seeing as Derek lived off of take out and his kitchen consisted mostly of alcohol - since he couldn’t get drunk Isaac had no idea why - and Erica and Boyd had either eaten at home or brought junk food along. Isaac had lived off of whatever he could scrounge from Derek’s dismal kitchen until he seemed to remember he had a kid living with him and bought more food.

Now, though. Isaac didn’t mind cooking so much. Especially when Scott ‘leader of the pack’ McCall turned to him for help with measuring olive oil. Melissa was just grateful for some good food she didn’t have to make herself.

“God, you boys make my day better,” Melissa sighed contentedly, inhaling deeply.

“Don’t thank me, mom, it was mostly Isaac,” Scott seemed to be in a better mood under his mother’s praise.

“Well, it’s not like I pay rent. It’s the least I can do,” Isaac muttered sheepishly.

“Neither does Scott but I didn’t see him cooking for years,” Melissa continued to tease her son.

“God, mom. You could at least be nice to me around Christmas,” Scott feigned offense. Isaac had slowly gotten used to their banter. At first it had made him tense, mistaking it for anger or malice, but now he understood that just didn’t really seem to happen under the McCall roof.

“Speaking of Christmas,” Melissa startled Isaac by turning to him. “Now, it’s already taken me weeks to weasel what you’d want out of Scott, but I also have another request I hope you’ll be less likely to politely deny.”

“Yes?” Isaac couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“Now, this is your first Christmas with us,” Melissa began and Isaac liked that it implied there would be more. “So if there are any family traditions you used to have or something you’d miss, please tell me, okay Isaac? It would make me feel better knowing,” Melissa said.

“My dad wasn’t super religious or anything, I mean we used to have Christmas with my mom before…” Isaac rambled. He actually did have something in mind. The thought of asking for anything made him anxious. “My dad kind of ruined Christmas,” he said quietly. “After my mom died he tried to make it happen but it was just horrible, honestly. Then my brother left and…” He was stalling.

“It’s okay, Isaac. If there’s something about Christmas that upsets you, you should’ve told me-”

“No it’s not that,” Isaac said quickly, tensing realizing he had interrupted. “My dad always made sure we celebrated Christmas because his parents were christian and my mom compromised but…” He was still rambling. Had his father really instilled this much fear when it came to talking about his mother? “M-My mom’s side was Jewish. And before everything went to hell, when we were little, really, we’d celebrate hanukkah.” Isaac still felt the need to defend himself and make sure they knew it didn’t mean anything. “And I know it’s over now so it really doesn’t matter but you asked so…” 

“I didn’t know you were Jewish,” Scott said blankly.

“I don’t know if I am my mom just… celebrated with us but we didn’t actually practice or anything…” Isaac stammered out. “I’m sorry, forget it.”

“Isaac. You shouldn’t feel bad for telling us this. Hanukkah ended on the 5th I think… but we can totally do something for it, okay? It’ll be on Christmas, but I hope it’ll make you feel more at home here,” Melissa’s voice was soft and tender, that sadness creeping back into her eyes at his anxiety over simply talking to them.

“I don’t know if I even care too much about the religious part, it’s just… my mom… please just forget about it,” Isaac said. “We celebrated Christmas too.”

“Yeah, with your shithead of a dad,” Scott butted in stubbornly.

“Language, Scott,” Melissa scolded halfheartedly.

“Please, can we just drop it? Just for now?”

“Isaac, fine. But you’d better believe this isn’t over,” Melissa said with a wink. Isaac once again regretted his choice to actually share things with this ridiculous family.

The next morning on Christmas eve Isaac awoke with a start to the fire alarm going off.

“Jesus, mom! What’re you doing?” A startled Scott shouted and rushed downstairs. Isaac trailed after him sleepily.

“Goddammit, I overdid it, okay?! Leave me alone! Actually, open a few windows!” Melissa hissed.

It smelled like a mix of wax and… french toast? As Isaac descended the stairs he saw a thin haze of smoke in the air. At first he just thought Ms. McCall had burnt breakfast, but instead he realized the house was covered in lit candles. Particularly, eight of them in a row on the dining table. With it was blue and white paper chains. Isaac wanted to smack himself.

“You really, and I mean really, shouldn’t have,” Isaac said before opening the front windows while Ms. McCall tried to wave the smoke away from the detector with a towel.

“Hush! Let me try and do something for you!” Melissa shot back.

“It isn’t a holiday if you burn down the house, mom!” Scott said as he opened the back windows quickly.

Isaac stared at the two McCalls flusteredly running around with candles clustered on almost every available surface and found himself unable to hold back a laugh. At their bemused looks he laughed harder. Isaac found himself keeled over on their couch laughing almost hysterically. The look, somewhat like horror, on Scott’s face from an event as shocking as Isaac laughing, let alone literally collapsed over his ridiculous foster family.

“Jeez, Ise, it wasn’t that bad,” Scott said but even he was grinning at his housemate.

“Y-You both- t-try so h-hard,” Isaac gasped. “You’re crazy. And god, Ms. McCall, you explain so much about Scott.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” Melissa said bewilderedly.

“No,” Isaac sighed, finally able to breathe properly. “Definitely not.”

The smoke alarm finally stopped.

Melissa, seeming a bit embarrassed, extinguished half of the candles, save for a few on the coffee table and the eight on the dining table. The french toast was, miraculously, unburnt.

“I think I did great, honestly. I tried, I decorated, I cooked. I have a recipe for latkes for dinner,” Melissa said insistently.

Isaac could’ve died from embarrassment, “really, Ms. McCall, this is too much,” he mumbled.

“Oh. You don’t like it. I’m sorry Isaac. I couldn’t find a menorah at the only supply store that was open past eleven and the only thing I thought would work there was the paper,” Melissa rambled.

“No, no. It’s not that. I really do like it,” he had no preference really. “I just mean you should’ve gone through all this trouble,” regardless of what Ms. McCall had done for him, he was just touched that she had done anything.

“Really, mom. This is a good Christmas. A good holiday,” Scott said.

“I, uh, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time, but really, I am grateful,” Isaac said. He realized, with some surprise, that he was properly happy. He felt lighter and breathing felt easier and Isaac almost didn’t know what to do with it.

“What’re you grinning about?” Melissa asked him.

“You’re not still laughing at us about the candle fiasco, are you?” Scott asked.

Isaac shook his head, “just… I feel okay.”

“Yeah?” Scott grinned.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

The following night Isaac lay curled on the couch sleepily with the McCall’s chattering as background noise. The candles on the coffee table blurred in his vision and with an ache that wasn’t as painful as he thought it would be, it reminded him of those quiet nights years ago with his mother humming softly in his ear. Everything was kind then.

Scott flopped down beside him and offered him a sloppily decorated cookie with a warmth in his eyes Isaac had forgotten. Maybe things could be kind again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Isaac seems a little out of character, but I wanted him to be HAPPY for a change, and if that means being a little out of character than so be it! And I wanted to make things a little different than just the McCall's 'fixing Christmas' and I thought Isaac celebrating Hanukkah would be a good way to connect him to just his mom and not his dad.  
> Hope you liked this little bit of happiness for our boy!


	24. Chapter 24

“Isaac. How’s your break been?” Dr. Gallagher asked.

“Good. Actually good,” Isaac said. “But part of me feels like I’ve just been putting off stuff I actually have to worry about.”

“How about we discuss the positives for a minute first?” Dr. Gallagher insisted.

“Why not. I destroyed part of my own house, lit some shit on fire, and actually had a good holiday. It was a little weird, but not bad,” Isaac shrugged.

“You… destroyed your old house?” Dr. Gallagher paused.

“Well, just the basement really,” Isaac deadpanned.

“You went back to your old house,” Dr. Gallagher backtracked.

“Yeah. I mean, it was Stiles’ idea. He got a bunch of gasoline and shit and said we should burn the freezer for a christmas present,” Isaac shrugged. He knew she wanted to discuss the dangers of what he did. Especially considering it had messed him up for a few days, but he didn’t know if he wanted to muddle through what happened again.

“Isaac, I admire the courage it took to go back there, but I don’t know if that was a very healthy thing to do for you,” Dr. Gallagher spoke with a careful and even voice but it was obvious she was concerned.

“I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Isaac grew defensive.

“Could you tell me what happened? At the house? Do you think you experienced a panic attack or any sort of involuntary reaction?” Dr. Gallagher continued.

“You said we should try exposure therapy,” Isaac dodged the question.

“Isaac, tell me the truth please,” Dr. Gallagher said sternly.

“It was bad. But I think I felt like I had to go back,” Isaac forced himself to speak.

“Because of your friends?”

“No, they were the ones telling me I could just turn back,” Isaac said quickly. “I think I was just so angry. And I couldn’t take it out on my dad and I didn’t have a way to give any of that pain back to who caused it,” Isaac didn’t look at her and simply allowed this slow, bitter explanation - justification? - to form. “And I don’t know if it made me feel better or worse, destroying everything, but I know I needed to let it out somehow. Or at least when Stiles brought it up I knew I wanted to.”

“Do you think you feel better or worse now?”

“I don’t know. Different though, I think,” Isaac admitted.

“Did part of that experience hurt you, Isaac?” Dr. Gallagher got to the point she was trying to reach. She was worried about him, Isaac realized.

“Part of doing it hurt. A lot. I was so scared at first. Any loud noises made me feel frozen and it was like I was physically shaken. I don’t think I should go back there any time soon, but knowing that that basement, that freezer, are destroyed does make me feel better. Just a bit. It was like that place was following me. It was like I didn’t realize it until I’d destroyed it that part of me still thought I might get put back in there,” Isaac said.

“Isaac, I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but next time you have the change to put yourself in that kind of distress, maybe wait and call me?” Dr. Gallagher said. “It doesn’t sound like you inflicted any permanent damage, but that could’ve been very dangerous for your progress. I know it may not seem like it to you, but you’ve grown. And reinstilling the feelings you had in that environment could have put you back.”

“Once I got back to the McCall’s, I couldn’t sleep that night. But after that the fear faded. I know what you mean, though,” Isaac said.

“Well, I was going to propose we lock you in my office for a while to continue your exposure therapy, but I feel like you’ve done enough as of late,” Dr. Gallagher sighed.  
“Yeah,” Isaac agreed almost too quickly, feeling as if he’d dodged a bullet.

“Is there anything you feel the need to discuss about what happened then? Your experience at the house?” Dr. Gallagher said.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t see a point in talking about it,” Isaac said.

“I won’t make you talk about it,” Dr. Gallagher said. “And you said you thought you’ve been putting off some problems?”

“We all have, honestly,” Isaac admitted. “Something’s wrong with Scott and he’s been ignoring it. He just seems so sad whenever he’s quiet. Stiles… he seems so distant and confused and Allison is just so scared all the time. Lydia is worried too. She’s just acting like everything is normal too.”

“Is that what’s troubling you? What’s happening with your friends?” She asked.

“Yeah, but also…” Isaac became sheepish. “It’s stupid but… Scott and I still haven’t talked about Allison. We just act like everything's fine but I know he isn’t over it.”

“Alright. I cannot force you to talk to Scott, but putting it off is only causing more problems,” Dr. Gallagher said, she seemed pleased that Isaac also had normal problems to discuss. “But I think you should set a deadline. Otherwise what if you never talk about it? It won’t be good for your relationship with Scott or Allison.”

“A deadline? I don’t know,” Isaac muttered, knowing he would have to abide by it.

“Isaac, despite what the movies say, therapists are supposed to do more than just sit in their office passively and nod,” Dr. Gallagher said a little intensely. Isaac didn’t follow. “I am going to give you a deadline and I am going to expect you to abide by it.”

“Great,” Isaac sighed.

“Before you go back to school you will at the minimum bring it up with Scott,” Dr. Gallagher pushed.

“Fine!” Isaac snapped. “I’ll bring it up with Scott.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now OFFICIALLY overlapping with pt 2 of season 3! I'll try to be a bit briefer with the canon parts of this so I can get to the aftermath in France!

“Scott?” Isaac started on the night before they returned to school. After the christmas spirit had faded that strange wall between him and Scott had seemed to reform.

“Yeah?” Scott called back to him from his desk.

“How’re you… how are you feeling about everything?” Isaac started vaguely.

“Fine,” there was a tightness in Scott’s voice that said he knew exactly what Isaac was trying to talk about.

“Oh. Good,” Isaac decided to bow out rather than face this conversation. “Never mind. See you tomorrow,” Isaac quickly left and went to his own room. God, he really couldn’t do it. School started tomorrow and he’d have to talk to him about it.

The following morning Isaac found himself awake and ready to leave much earlier than he expected. He then spent his extra time pacing and trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say to Scott. Eventually he heard movement from Scott’s room and knew it was now or never.

Isaac moved to knock only to have Scott open the door first.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes a little wider than usual.

“Oh, hey,” Scott said, seeming startled.

“Uh, are you, are you going to school?” Isaac said awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Scott said, seeming equally uncomfortable.

“Okay, me too,” Isaac said. He was entirely unsure of where he was going with this.

“Good,” Scott seemed to be feeling the same way.

“Can I ask you a question?” Isaac said, hardening his resolve.

“Okay,” Scott said, seeming to be gearing up for the conversation.

“Are you angry at me?”

“No.”

Isaac didn’t believe him, “are you sure?”

“No,” Scott said immediately.

“What- what does that mean?” Isaac said, now confused. This was not going to plan.

“I guess I’m not really sure how I’m feeling,” Scott said a little tiredly. Isaac thought that made sense but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop asking about the fears that had been nagging at him since before break.

“Okay,” Isaac said softly. “Do you hate me?” He hated the fear in his voice.

“No, of course not,” Scott said. Isaac still didn’t believe him.

“Do you want to hit me?” Isaac jumped to what he had been expecting from Scott through all this tension. He felt frozen with nerves. Some part of him almost felt afraid of Scott.

“No,” Scott said, seeming stiff and almost dishonest.

“I think you should hit me,” Isaac said carefully. In his mind that outcome would finally end the tension between them. At least for a little while. It was the only outcome he could see from this. He did not realize how wrong this was.

“I don’t want to hit you,” Scott said a little exasperatedly.

“Are you sure?” Isaac pushed. He just wanted to stop walking on his toes waiting for the blow. He just wanted to get it over with.

“Why would I want to hit you?” Scott said with a nervous laugh. “You didn’t do anything, did you?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. He grew more wary, wondering if this was a trick question. “I mean, um,” his voice felt cracked and unsure. “W-What do you mean?” He stammered out.

“I mean, like, you didn’t kiss her or anything, right?” Scott was smiling but Isaac could feel the anger underneath. Or maybe he was just expecting it.

“No! Absolutely not. No,” Isaac said quickly, wondering if he would avoid punishment. He just had to be honest, right?

Scott stared at him, “did you want to?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Isaac nodded.

Somehow still surprising him Isaac felt the wind get knocked out of him as Scott threw him out into the hallway. As he slid to the floor some part of him was thinking: good. It’s over with. No more waiting.

“Hey,” Melissa came around the corner. “You two supernatural teenage boys. Don’t test my entirely un-supernatural level of patience,” she, while unaware of the circumstances, had heard the bang and now saw a picture off the wall.

Feeling somewhat bitter now, Isaac looked back to Scott, “feel better?”

Still seeming angry, Scott barrelled past him and out the door. Isaac would be walking to school, then. He got to his feet, his back still hurting as it healed bruises, and fixed the painting before gloomily gathering his own stuff and trudging off to school.

Isaac arrived late, of course, and after getting a scolding and a late pass from the new vice principal he found himself unwilling to go to his second period class. He felt… weird. Like something was definitely wrong. Isaac realized it wasn’t because of him. It was Scott. Something was still very wrong with him. While at the time Isaac had wholly expected that outcome, and honestly still did, throwing someone into a wall was a very un-scott like behavior. He still seemed shadowed. So did all of them. He would go to his third period. To check on Allison.

When he entered the art classroom though, he found himself unwilling to sit near Allison and Lydia, Scott still on his mind. But still he looked towards her, seeing the way she jumped and shook. Lydia seemed to notice it too. After the class and once Allision left Isaac stopped her.

“What?” Lydia said a little sharply.

“You’re noticing it too,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s affecting Scott too.”

“I know,” she frowned. “Come on, I’m going to take Allison to find Scott and Stiles. We need to talk to them.”

“Scott and I aren’t on the best of terms right now,” Isaac muttered.

“Fine. I’ll talk to them myself,” Lydia said with an eye roll before walking after Allison.

Isaac found himself standing a little lost outside the classroom. He didn’t want to be around Scott. Therefore, he didn’t want to be around any of his remaining friends. He still missed Boyd and Erica. Isaac did what he’d done for a long time. He kept his head down and got through the day. After, though. He didn’t want to return to the McCall’s, lest he’d have to confront Scott. Instead he noticed Allison and Lydia leaving together. He wanted to talk to her, to Allison. He wanted to help her. Even though Isaac didn’t understand the cause he knew what it was like to not feel like yourself. To shake and jump at everything. Feeling still a little unsure of his goals he moved to follow Lydia’s car, which seemed to be heading towards the woods. Feeling moderately stalkerish, he still found himself heading after them into the woods. He could hear them talking as well as the hiss of arrows. As he approached he heard Allison, shouting in a panic.

“Lydia?! Lydia!”

“Allison! I’m right here, calm down!” Lydia shouted back. Isaac rushed forward, seeing Allison whirling around in a panic.

“What’s happening?” He asked.

“I don’t know, she said she saw something and-and she went walking off and then she just started freaking out!” Lydia said.

Much to both of their horror, Allison began to raise her bow right at Lydia. Without thinking Isaac ran forward as fast as he could and, as if time were slowed, caught the arrow mere inches from Lydia’s face. He looked to Allison, who it seemed had returned to their reality.

“Oh my god,” Allison dropped her bow. “Oh my god, Lydia!”

“Allison, do you maybe want to talk about whatever it is you’ve been seeing?” Isaac asked slowly. Lydia, still breathing heavily, tried to compose herself.

“I-I keep seeing her. I keep seeing Aunt Kate and s-she’s dead and she keeps following me-” Allison was a gibbering mess, holding onto Lydia tightly.

“Your aunt? Your dead aunt?” Isaac said slowly.

“I-I need to go home. I can’t have a bow anymore. Oh my god, I could’ve killed you!” Allison seemed on the verge of tears as she held onto Lydia’s cheeks and stared into her eyes with unfiltered remorse.

“It’s not your fault,” Lydia’s voice trembled. “Isaac. Why were you-? It doesn’t matter. Thank you. God, good timing.”

Isaac shrugged sheepishly, feeling pretty shaken himself.

“Let’s get you home,” Lydia said, as if Allison were the almost-victim here.

Isaac awkwardly picked up Allison’s bow and followed them back to Lydia’s car. Lydia just sat behind the steering wheel for a moment, trembling. Allison was next to her with her head in her hands. Isaac didn’t know what to do or say.

“I’ll take you home too, Isaac,” Lydia said, forcing her voice to steady. She dropped Allison off by her car and Isaac got out to return her bow.

“No. I can’t,” Allison said, her voice hushed and her eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

With a strange ache in his chest he gently unfolded her balled fists and placed the bow in her hand. “We’ll figure this out, Allison. You’ll be okay,” he said, his voice as hushed as it was in the vault when her father was taken.

Allison couldn’t bring herself to respond and instead rushed off to her car, resolutely locking the bow in the trunk before getting behind the wheel.

“Isaac,” Lydia pulled him from his worried thoughts as he stood there, staring after her distant tires disappearing around the corner.

“Coming,” Isaac said reluctantly and got back into Lydia’s car. “Are you okay?” He asked. Lydia was the one with the most right to be damaged by this.

“More so than Allison,” Lydia said stiffly. Her strength, however frigid, still impressed Isaac in some way.

“You gonna get home alright?” Isaac asked. Lydia made a scoffing sound but didn’t reply. “Look, I’ll go with you back to your house and walk from there. You don’t need to drive home alone.”

“Look at you, being chivalrous at the most unnecessary times,” Lydia used her snark to mask the fact that her hands were gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. Isaac could still hear how fast her heart was beating.

“I won’t push it,” Isaac sighed dismissively. Feeling a little unwilling he got out of the car at the McCall’s, Lydia speeding off before he could say another word.  
Scott was home. Isaac knew he needed to know what had happened and that it would be something for them to talk about so he pushed on. Unlocking the door with impatience that had more to do with getting this conversation over with than with starting it.

“Scott?” Isaac called.

“What’s up?” Scott called from the stairs. His words were casual but his tone still felt uncomfortable.

“Allison is getting worse,” Isaac began.

“Worse how?” Scott asked nervously, now properly paying attention.

Isaac followed him up the stairs, “well, she shot an arrow at Lydia. Unintentionally, I think.”

“Wait. At Lydia? Not, like, near her because her aim is bad right now?” Scott asked, eyes wide.

“At her, Scott. Right at her head,” Isaac followed Scott into his room.

“Right at her head?” He said disbelievingly.

“Almost right through it,” Isaac said, thinking of those inches of air between the arrowhead and Lydia’s temple. “And she keeps saying the same thing, that she keeps seeing her aunt,” Isaac continued while still thinking hard. He remembered digging the grave for Kate Argent over a year ago. Only now did Allison’s connection to her feel real. “Whatever’s happening to you guys is getting worse. And if I hadn’t been there, then Lydia would be dead,” he pushed, still caught up in those seconds between Allison firing and him catching it.

Scott looked up at him carefully, his eyes more wary than concerned now, “what were you doing there?”

“Ah,” Isaac started awkwardly, staring at the ceiling.

Scott’s hands rammed into his chest and for the second time that day he slammed into the wall.

Melissa’s distant and tired voice rang up to them, “oh, you guys, come on! This house does not have a supernatural ability to heal!” She shouted with some desperation. “So, stop it!”

Isaac, feeling somewhat resigned, smiled a little bitterly at Melissa’s annoyance and stared back at Scott, who seemed to almost leer at him from within his room.   
His hands were balled tightly into fists, a deep frown forming around his crooked jaw. Isaac felt tense, wondering if Scott was going to hit him again.

“I-” Scott began, looking now as if he were about to either slam his door or rush out of the room.

“I’m sorry. I-I know you and Allison are- I don’t know what you are but it wasn’t right a-and I was just worried and I didn’t want to go home so I followed them just please, give me another chance,” Isaac couldn’t stop stammering, his words forming more of a ramble than a sentence.

Scott’s clenched fists slackened and his mouth hung open slightly. He stared at his housemate, pressed against the wall, curled on the floor with a strange look of horror.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with me?” Scott rushed towards Isaac, kneeling in front of him. Isaac flinched at his approach and Scott felt himself wince in return.   
“Maybe it’s whatever’s happening to us I’m not trying to make an excuse but god Isaac I’m so sorry!”

“You… you’re sorry?” Isaac frowned.

“Yeah! What the hell was a thinking?!” Scott grabbed onto his hand and pulled him to his feet, dusting of Isaac’s shirt unnecessarily in his guilt.

“I don’t understand,” Isaac said slowly.

“Christ, Isaac! I fucking hit you! For no reason besides you’ve been hanging out with Allison?! How in any way is that okay?!” Scott now seemed more shaken up. “How the hell weren’t you pissed at me?!”

“I… I don’t know,” Isaac’s face remained blank against Scott’s panic. “I messed up so I guess I just thought…” He drifted off frowning and staring at his feet.

“You… you thought it was okay. That I hit you,” Scott said, his voice softer, forced into a state of calm when he sort of wanted to cry on behalf of the kid he had been so angry with minutes ago.

“I…” Isaac didn’t know what to say because he knew that that was exactly what he had thought.

“Come on,” Scott once again seemed angry - this time at himself - and dragged Isaac by the hand downstairs. Isaac trailed after him limply, still unable to process both the wrongness of what had happened and more so Scott admitting he was wrong. It was entirely foreign to him. “Mom!” Scott called out, surprising Isaac even more.

“You boys done rough housing and destroying that wall?” Melissa sighed from the kitchen.

“It wasn’t rough housing,” Scott said resolutely.

“Sorry, what?” Melissa turned around, seeming confused of what Scott was trying to say.

“I…” Scott’s mouth tasted sour with shame, despite being somewhat sure that he had hurt Isaac for the same reason he had almost turned in the hallway earlier.   
“I hit Isaac.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Melissa said with an unsure laugh. As if she couldn’t compute what Scott was telling her.

“Scott,” Isaac said, equally bemused. Why was Scott telling Ms. McCall this?

“Isaac, you don’t even realize!” Scott said. “And mom, I mean it. I threw Isaac into a wall for stupid reasons,” he said insistently.

“Scott!” Melissa’s voice grew scandalized. “What the hell are you talking about?! You-you threw Isaac?”

“Something’s wrong with me, mom. Something with whatever happened the night we found you guys,” Scott said almost desperately. “But the point is, I hurt Isaac. Worse- he didn’t even question it!”

“We heal…” Isaac muttered.

“That’s not the point!” Scott said exasperatedly.

“Scott, slow down!” Melissa said. “Honestly, I don't know what to do with this situation. You obviously regret your actions and I mean, you did hit him, but do I ground you…?” Melissa said uncertainly. Scott just shrugged. Seeming unsure of what to do with her son she turned to the other boy she was responsible. “Isaac… why did you think that was okay?”

Isaac knew why. So did she. But what else was she supposed to ask?

“I thought… I just thought it was normal,” Isaac’s voice cracked.

Melissa, like her son, had one immediate reaction when she didn’t know what to say. She hugged him. She held on tightly as Isaac remained unmoving in her arms. “No one is allowed to hurt you, Isaac. Never,” she said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essentially, I thought Scott hurting Isaac like that was awfully out of character! So I chalked it up to the effects of the nemeton, like with all their weird behavior!


	26. Chapter 26

Scott seemed to be committed to making up for whatever anger had overpowered him as of late and in some ways ended up hovering over Isaac.

“Do you want to look at my history notes?” Scott said that morning after Isaac complained about his upcoming test.

“Um. No. It’s a little late for new notes, the test is today,” Isaac said uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Scott frowned. “Do you want to stop and pick up breakfast? I’ll buy,” he added.  
“Scott, I appreciate what you’re doing, but how about we just try and act normal, okay?” Isaac said with an eyeroll, despite how endearing he found Scott’s behavior.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Scott nodded eagerly.

“So, can you stop acting like that? I’m not angry with you,” Isaac said. Part of why it made him so uncomfortable was because Scott was behaving like a much more enthusiastic version of himself when he feared his father was angry with him. Desperate for approval. “Just… give me a ride to school and calm down.”

“Yeah, okay,” Scott seemed to be more relaxed now, but he still handed Isaac the new helmet Lydia had gotten for him and opted for his old one.

Isaac pretended not to notice and just got on the back of the bike. Once they got to school, Scott was dragged away by a bothersome Stiles and Isaac, with his usual brooding expression, sulked off to first period. Every once and a while he noticed his continual grouchy reputation seemed to follow him still as he walked easily through the crowded halls. Either it was because of his height or more likely his ongoing maybe-murderer status. He didn’t mind it so much. At least he didn’t have to keep his head down and try and shoulder his way through the halls anymore. His teachers seemed, while bad at hiding their similar suspicions, remarkably surprised by his sudden improvement in school. He hadn’t had a Scott-like sudden attempt to be better, but knowing Melissa expected him to be better.

And that’s how he found himself slightly nervous and studying at the lunch table while his friends discussed their current insanity next to him.

“Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near death experience and comes out of it seeing things?” Scott asked as if anyone at the table might have a clue.

“And is unable to tell what’s real or not,” Stiles added helpfully.

“And haunted by visions of dead relatives,” Allison said, biting on her fingernails. Scott had all but insisted Isaac sit next to her. Isaac almost thought he had a chance now, despite how cautious he was trying to be about his feelings for Allison. Especially considering the problem at hand.

“They’re all locked up because they’re insane,” Isaac gloomily spoke.

“Ha. Can you at least try to be helpful, please?” Stiles said dryly.

“For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer, so being helpful is kind of a new thing for me,” Isaac said with intentional patronization.

“Hey, dude, are you still milking that?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah maybe I am still milking that,” Isaac snapped back. God, Stiles was such an idiot sometimes. Milking that? It wasn’t a trump card, it was the fucking truth.

“Hi, sorry.” A random girl with very colorful clothes was now standing at their table with a nervous smile. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about.” They all stared at her incredulously. Couldn’t help overhearing? Where the hell did she even come from? There weren’t any tables near them. “And I think I actually might know what you’re talking about.” They were all even more bewildered. Stiles glanced around, as if expecting someone to explain her presence. “There’s a tibetan word for it. It’s called bardo.” She continued like she didn’t see the confusion in her audience. “It literally means ‘in-between state’. The state between life and death.” Very deep for a girl wearing patterned leggings.

Lydia, of course, voiced what they were all thinking, “and what do they call you?”

Scott answered first, “Kira.” His friends now looked at him in confusion. “She’s in our history class.” Scott said, like he wasn’t totally transparent.

“So are you talking Bardo in tibetan Buddhism or Indian?” Lydia said pomptiously, as if to uphold her genius status in front of the new competition.

Kira took this as an invitation to sit and continue, “either, I guess. But all that stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo,” she seemed much to enthusiastic for someone among strangers. Although, Isaac thought, from the way Scott was staring at her ‘strangers’ wouldn’t last.

Kira continued to explain some mythical bullshit about hallucinations which Isaac hardly payed attention to vaguely following something about peaceful and wrathful deities. That was something interesting and far worse than hallucinations. “Wrathful deities?” Isaac repeated, leaning on his arm and frowning slightly.   
“And um, what are those?”

“Like demons,” she said simply. Great. If only this poor girl knew what the hell was actually going on.

“Demons,” Stiles said with a dry resignation. Because of course. After everything there would be demons, apparently. “Why not?”

Still thinking about the whole demon situation Isaac tried to refocus as Allison asked about whatever ‘states’ this Kira girl was talking about. “What’s the last one?” Allison asked.

“Death. You die,” Kira remained almost chipper due to her ignorance and really it did not make the delivery very positive. Once again Isaac was reminded of his fear from that night when his friends were in the ice. The idea that it might just be him and Lydia left.

“Well, this is just fantastic,” Stiles said grouchily.

“Why’re you guys so interested in spiritual stuff? Is it for another history class or something?” Kira pressed.

“Nope, just natural curiosity. We’re all big fans of religious studies, so. Thanks for the help,” Isaac said sarcastically, hoping Kira would take the hint and leave. Scott shot him a look.

“Thanks, Kira. So, uh. How’s your first month in beacon hills been?” Scott leaned past Stiles to talk to the new girl. Isaac glanced from Allison to Scott to Kira. Evidently, Scott seemed to have a thing for new girls.

At the end of the day Scott texted him, saying he was going straight to Deatons so he’d have to walk. Isaac agreed with the decision, hoping the vet would have more insight than a random girl. Isaac did find himself a little lost without Scott, though.

“Hey,” Allison pulled up beside him as Isaac began to head home.

“Hey,” Isaac stopped, frowning. He was unsure if Scott still wanted him to stay away from Allison.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” she said. Feeling as if he’d prefer not to refuse, Isaac got into the front seat. “So. Kira.”

“Seems like she’s fitting in. With some of our group anyways,” Isaac said carefully.

“Yeah,” Allison laughed and Isaac couldn’t tell if she was pretending to not be upset or not. “Scott doesn’t even seem to realize how transparent he is.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said with a quiet chuckle. “You… you don’t seem to mind it.”

“No. It’s his business. I dumped him, didn’t I?” Allison insisted and Isaac still couldn’t read her emotions.

“Yeah. You did,” Isaac tried not to think too hard about Allison’s current single status.

“I feel like we have way more important things to think about besides Scott and the new girl,” Allison said. “I just want my aim back, Isaac.” Allison said tiredly. “What am I good at besides my bow?”

As Isaac was too startled to think of something else she was good at he fell back on his first instinct, negativity: “I feel like you’d rather actually know the difference between visions of dead relatives and you know, Lydia’s head.”

“Thanks for that, Isaac,” Allison said with a sarcasm that didn’t suit her.

“Sorry. But… we’ll figure it out,” Isaac said. It was honestly one of the more optimistic things he ever said and honestly he didn’t sound like he didn’t believe it himself.

“Yeah, well. I’m barely figuring things out with my dad after we lied to each other before and I still wish I could just be a normal teenager. And of course be able to actually aim right,” Allison admitted as she pulled up to the empty McCall house.

“Yeah, well. Never got the chance to try. Being able to aim a bow or be a normal teenager,” Isaac admitted.

“Even with the whole werewolf thing, you can do normal things,” Allison said.

“Yeah. Still working on that,” Isaac frowned and got out of the car.

“See you later, Ise,” Allison said before pulling away from the curb. Isaac felt a strange swooping in his stomach at her nickname.

Isaac entered the empty house, feeling hyper aware of how often he came home in the afternoon and spent the day alone. Whatever uncaring ‘cool’ persona he apparently projected actually ended up with him sitting at home doing homework and asking Melissa and Scott if he should start putting something together for dinner. If he dressed and spoke the way he actually tended to behave, he would probably, he thought with a shudder, end up like a disturbing combination between Stiles and Scott. Studious. Painfully desperate for approval. And defending himself with sarcasm or teeth.

Isaac pushed aside whatever regrets were pushing to the surface and decidedly focused on the fact that there was no reason for him to mope over the fact that neither of the McCalls were home to look after him and that none of his other friends had bothered to have him hang out. Other friends. Who would that be? Allison?

With a little head shake Isaac went to the kitchen, both laying out his homework and rummaging through the cabinets to decide what to cook. He was always so easily trapped in gloom, but he found himself capable of remieding it by keeping all too busy. At least, he felt he had to do this while alone. So he both jotted down answers and notes while defrosting chicken and cutting up vegetables. Melissa texting him:

‘Thank you, thank you thank youuu.’

when he told her not to worry about dinner. That was enough to give him a twinge of satisfaction against his loneliness. He only hated his own thoughts. It was hard to deal with them alone.

Isaac heard the front door open violently, he flinched before smelling Scott. Only to tense again as a less reputable McCall followed.

“Scott, you’re overreacting!” Mr. McCall shouted after his son.

“I’m overreacting? Sheriff Stilinski has been there for me more in the past ten years than you ever have! Not only that, but it’s Stiles’ dad! How could you try and get him fired?!” Scott shouted back.

Isaac put down the kitchen knife feeling once again incredibly uncomfortable by his presence there in that moment, “Scott? What’re you talking about?”

“Isaac, this doesn’t involve you,” Mr. McCall said coldly.

“You don’t get to say that, dad!” Scott snapped.

“I do, actually. I am allowed to have a conversation with my son in private, so Isaac, out,” Mr. McCall point sharply at the front door, staring Isaac down.

“Dad, shut up! Stop acting like you’re still in charge here!” Scott roared, his anger almost heating the room.

Feeling like he didn’t belong here, and since Scott most definitely had it covered, Isaac found himself rushing out of the back door, where he walked quickly from the yard, hearing Scott still shouting behind him.

“No one invited you here, okay?!” Scott yelled.

“I’m here to help,” Mr. McCall’s tone tried to stay calm but indignance was evident.

“That doesn’t make any sense, dad! Who are you helping?!” Scott continued and Isaac tried to ignore the words, yelling did far from comfort him. After a moment he realized Melissa’s voice had joined the fray.

After a moment of calm, Isaac heard the front door slam and decided it was safe to enter the house again.

“So…” Isaac said awkwardly from the doorway. Feeling puzzled, he just managed to see Scott disappear out of the front door, his bike soon roaring down the street.

“Apparently, my charming ex husband has targeted a close family friend,” Melissa said grumpily. “And now Scott has disappeared into the night. Great.”

“I could look for him…?” Isaac offered warily.

“No, let’s just let the other often ridiculous man in my family blow off some steam,” Melissa said, rubbing her temples tiredly. “Honestly, Isaac, sometimes I can’t believe someone actually sensible managed to find their way into this house,” Melissa patted Isaac on the arm before going upstairs to change out of her scrubs.  
Isaac hesitated, still feeling like he should go after Scott, before deciding that Melissa deserved the comfort of knowing the other teenager she was responsible for hadn’t gone running off into the night. Melissa came back downstairs in sweatpants, piling food onto her plate and collapsing onto the couch. After she ate she leaned her head back, eyes drooping from the long double shift. She jerked awake, startling Isaac slightly, before frowning at the tv, trying to focus on the home designers discussing countertops.

“Ms. McCall, why don’t you go to bed?” Isaac offered carefully.

“Not until Scott gets home from whatever trouble he’s ran towards now,” Melissa sighed.

“I’ll wait for him,” Isaac said.

“Thank you, Isaac. No point in staying down here if I fall asleep,” with a yawn Melissa went upstairs, fussing with Isaac’s hair as she passed. Isaac felt such an incredible warmth towards the woman who had been so kind to him.

Yet now it was down to him to see to Scott coming home alive. And considering his nap when he and Scott had tried to protect Ms. McCall, his odds weren’t good. Isaac busied himself with the dishes, his enhanced ears listening for Scott’s bike all the while. Isaac worried that Scott had gone after his father and despite knowing the circumstances were very different, the idea of his friend being alone with his father made Isaac nervous.  
When Scott returned, he brought news entirely unrelated to Mr. McCall, rather he brought a new little problem.

“There’s this case, that Sheriff Stilinski is coming back to, and we think the daughter who survived, Malia, was a werewolf. Well, she’s actually a werecoyote-”

“What?” Isaac stopped on the middle of the stairs, turning back to stare at him. “A-”

“A werecoyote, yes. Which, yes is apparently a thing. She’s turned. She’s turned fully and she’s running around the woods as an animal and her father is totally screwed in the head because of it-”

“I’m still caught up on the whole werecoyote thing. And you mean to tell me she isn’t just like us, she’s literally a coyote?” Isaac continued to stop him, his brain spinning.

“At the moment,” Scott said a little defensively. “The idea is that we help her.”

“Help her? How?” Isaac asked, his brain no more comprehending than before. A fucking werecoyote? What’s next, a werejaguar?

“Well. I don’t know yet. But Stiles and I are going to talk to Deaton about it tomorrow,” Scott frowned. “My biggest issue is Malia’s dad. He’s… well. Hunting coyotes because he thinks they’re responsible for his daughter’s death.

“The daughter that currently is a coyote?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah…” Scott said, rubbing his temples much like his mother had done before. “Look, we’ll talk to Deaton about whatever the hell is going on tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've realized a flaw in my timeline while researching for this- in around two episodes is the one that overlaps with Halloween, which means that it should currently be october, not january... for the sake of narrative I hope you all can forgive me for not fixing it!  
> And I have a question- is the overlap with actual canon material too much or is it helpful so you can follow the story? Because I am considering almost exclusively going over necessary Isaac-centric scenes without filler sections for context. Which would mean I'd be writing under the assumption that you remember the actual show storyline well enough to know what's going on. Of course there are smaller solutions like I could remind what episode the chapter overlaps with in the a/n! Thanks!


	27. Chapter 27

Scott came to Isaac after school the following day, updated him on the accidental attack on that new girl Kira from the coyote, well, the sort of coyote, and said they were going to catch it- catch her.

“How do you plan on doing that?” Isaac asked.

“Well, we’re wolves. We hunt things, don’t we?” Scott said uncertainly.

“You can’t shift, Scott. You said it yourself, you haven’t been able to control it since the nemeton,” Isaac said impatiently.

“You can,” Scott said. “And you smelled her. She won’t be hard to track.”

“Yeah, well. The hallways at school reeking of coyote piss don’t change the fact that we need a hunter. We need Allison,” Isaac forced himself to say what they were both thinking. Whatever relationship bullshit they still struggled with came second to the supernatural lives they, or at least Scott, felt responsible for.

“I’ll text her,” Scott said quietly. Yet Isaac found there was no resentment in his voice.

“Come on, let’s go to Deaton, I couldn’t explain everything on the phone,” Stiles pulled up in his pathetic mess of a jeep. “Isaac, you riding with me or Scott? More room in the jeep.”

“Better chance of survival on the bike,” Isaac retorted.

“Don’t you talk about Roscoe that way!” Stiles snapped, before battling his way out of the parking lot, ‘roscoe’s engine complaining all the while.

“Come on, if we beat him there Deaton won’t have to endure Stiles defending his baby alone,” Scott said with a fond smile after his best friend.

Isaac found himself once again on the back of Scott’s bike, racing towards another problem that Scott felt obligated to solve. Isaac had come to terms with this being a part of his life from the moment Scott McCall expressed worry for him that night of their attempt to catch Jackson. God, that felt like it had happened years ago. Deaton was waiting for them, already Isaac could see the ideas forming behind his eyes.

“Stiles told me that you believe you’ve found a werecoyote. One fully transformed who is being hunted,” Deaton said, gesturing for the three boys to follow him inside.

“Her name is Malia and it’s her dad who’s hunting her,” Scott added.

“Her father?” Deaton frowned.

“He thinks she’s an actual coyote who might have eaten his daughter,” Stiles pointed out.

“And you intend to capture her before he gets to her first?” Deaton said, already searching through his store of magical ingredients. And, Isaac noticed, his veterinary supplies as well.

“I mean, she isn’t actually a coyote. So I think the idea is to turn her back into a human. Apparently. However we plan to do that,” Isaac muttered, loosening his scarf around his neck.

“Yes, well. The first step would be finding a way to catch her,” Deaton walked to his back room, leaving the three of them waiting in the exam room. “Would Allison’s father happen to have a tranq gun?”

“I’ll ask,” Scott texted her.

“Good, because I may have something powerful enough to take her down,” Deaton said. “Xylazine. It’s a tranquilizer for horses. For a werecoyote, expect it to work within seconds. I only have three, so whoever’s shooting, needs to be a damn good shot.”

“Allison’s a perfect shot,” Scott spoke naively.

“She used to be,” Isaac said, wincing at the arrow that had been inches from Lydia’s face and the way Allison’s hands seemed to always shake.

“She can do it,” Scott pressed.

“If we manage to find the thing,” Isaac continued dryly.

“Okay, what is the point of him?” Stiles said, pointing at Isaac almost accusingly, who stood standoffish with folded arms. “Seriously, I mean, what is his purpose? Aside from the persistent negativity and the scarf,” he said, the last word coming out resentful. Isaac smiled sarcastically. “What’s up with the scarf, anyway? It’s sixty five degrees out.”

“Look, maybe I’m asking a question no one here wants to ask,” Isaac ignored Stiles and continued. “How do we turn a coyote back into a girl, when she hasn’t been a girl for eight years?” Isaac knew the rest of them were realizing he had a point. As always.

“I can do it,” Scott said softly after a pause.

“You can?” Stiles said.

“Remember the night Peter trapped us at the school?” Scott said. Isaac, after a moment of confusion remembered the trouble his friends had gotten into the year before he was turned. “In the gym, he was able to make me turn using just his voice. Deucalion did the same thing in the distillery.”

“This is a werecoyote, Scott,” Deaton pointed out. “Who knows if it will even work if you can find someone who can teach you?”

“That’s why you called Derek first,” Stiles said. Isaac’s eyes narrowed. Was Derek going to return?

“Yeah, I could try it on my own,” Scott sighed. Evidently, Derek hadn’t responded. “But right now, I’m too scared to even change into just a werewolf.”

“We need a real Alpha,” Stiles said quietly. Scott stared at him, offended. “You know what I mean. An Alpha who can do Alpha things.” Stiles grew agitated in his defense. “You know, an Alpha who can get it going, you know get it-”

“Up?” Isaac finished helpfully.

“Great, I’m an Alpha with performance issues,” Scott said bitterly. It took Isaac all his willpower not to laugh.

“Is there anyone else besides Derek who could help?” Deaton ignored the foolery of teenage boys and returned to the matter at hand.

“I wouldn’t trust Peter,” Isaac said quickly. He was worse than Derek right now.

“Maybe the twins?” Stiles offered. Isaac was about to protest their qualifications and morality as well but Deaton beat him to it.

“They’re not Alphas anymore,” Deaton said. “After what Jennifer did, almost killing them? It broke that part of them.”

“Yeah, but what if they know how to do it?” Stiles pushed.

“Nobody’s seen them for weeks,” Scott said. Isaac did not think this was a good idea after everything that pair had done.

“Well actually that’s uh, not totally true,” Stiles said awkwardly. “Lydia might still be talking to Aiden.”

“And she didn’t tell us? What if he’d hurt her?” Scott said crossly.

“Werewolf or not, I doubt even Aiden could take on Lydia,” Stiles snorted. “She can get in touch with him.”

“Well, seeing as I’d rather not have another encounter with the psycho twins I’m gonna go join Allison. See if her aim has gotten any less catastrophic,” Isaac said. Scott seemed to be biting back a comment at this and instead agreed grudgingly. Deaton handed Isaac the tranquilizers with an encouraging sort of nod.

“Wait, before you go, we might not be able to meet you at the preserve,” Scott stopped him, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“What?” Isaac asked cautiously.

“You might need to track Malia,” Scott said. “She shouldn’t be hard to follow, uh. Coyotes mark with pee. I’m sure you smelled her at the school, so. Just follow that.” Stiles snorted and Isaac wrinkled his nose.

“Great,” he muttered before heading out.

“And they tip toe!” Stiles shouted after him.

“I’ll drop you off at Allison’s while Stiles goes and gets Lydia,” Scott said.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, feeling both guilty for going to help Allison but also reassured by Scott’s willingness to take him there.

“Hopefully we’ll see you both there,” Scott said once they reached the Argent’s apartment building.

“Hopefully Allison will be able to aim,” Isaac sighed, holding tightly onto the case containing the sedatives.

Scott pulled away from the curb, bike roaring down the streets of downtown Beacon Hills. Evening was approaching. Isaac went to the elevator, wondering what would happen if someone stopped him and asked what was in the case, especially considering they were drugs strong enough to take down a horse.

“Isaac,” Allison seemed a little surprised to see him at her door. “I didn’t know you were bringing the tranqs here.”

“Yeah, well. It sounds like you’ll end up needing my help tracking, apparently,” Isaac said a little grumpily.

“I’m glad you came,” Allison clarified in the face of his moodiness and led him to her father’s study. “Do you think you can hone in on Malia?” She asked as he opened the case of syringes. “If not, we’re going to be in the woods for a very long time.”

Isaac handed her one of the vials. “I’ve got a pretty good lock on her scent, it’s actually kind of strong,” he said only a little sarcastically.

“What is it?” Allison asked, seeming genuinely startled.

“Pee,” Isaac said dryly, continuing to hand her vials of the drug.

Allison seemed to be fighting back a grin, she stared at him teasingly. Isaac continued to fiddle with the vials and glanced up to see Allison struggling to load a syringe. The humor faded as he stared at her trembling hands.

“You okay?” He asked her.

Allison completely missed the bottle, which she then dropped. Isaac wanted to make some biting comment about how the hell she was supposed to shoot, but he couldn’t. Not with her. Allison looked down, seeming as if she was trying to mask shame with cold stubbornness. She bent down to retrieve the vial. She stood up, staring around at the room a little glassy-eyed.

“Allison?” He called to her, frowning. She continued to stare off into space, seeing something else. “Allison, are you okay?”

Her hand gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned even whiter. Allison’s eyes shut momentarily and when they opened she stared around the room frantically.

“Allison! Can you hear me?” Isaac tried again a little desperately even though it was obvious she was having another flashback or hallucination or whatever you’d call it.

Her eyes shut again and Isaac had no time to react as she grabbed the tranq gun and aimed it right at his head. Isaac backed against the wall, hands reaching forward as if that could somehow protect him from whatever concoction Mr. Argent had had previously loaded into the gun.

“Allison!” He tried again even more desperately. Her eyes snapped open and he could see clarity return to them.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Allison said a little breathlessly, the gun lowering, her eyes wide in horror. Isaac stared, his jaw tense, as the gun returned to the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was doing, I’m sorry!” She rambled just as she had to Lydia in the woods. It didn’t change the fact that Isaac’s heart was still racing. Isaac realized his arms were still raised to defend himself, he lowered them slowly as Allison turned on the spot, her own arms raised and weaponless.

“Als, better than ring daggers, I guess,” Isaac tried to force some humor into his voice despite the bitter memories as Allison seemed to recede into herself with nerves.

“How am I supposed to help anyone if I’m like this?” Allison said, her voice hushed. “What am I supposed to do?”

Isaac approached her side, his voice coming out in a whisper as well, “Allison,” he reached forward slowly, his hand wrapping around hers which held the bottle with an iron grip. “Let me help you,” he said softly. Despite having never died and come back, he did understand that haunted look in her eyes. That fear that always follows pain.

She looked to him and he could only see exhaustion there, he gently pulled the bottle from her hand. “Show me what to do,” he said carefully, knowing that taking all control from Allison right now would only make things worse. Also, he didn’t know how to load a tranq gun. Something seemed to return to her eyes, a drive that Isaac couldn’t imagine her without.

“Load the syringe and then inject it into one of the darts,” she said, her voice still shook but there was conviction.

Isaac did as she said and turned to her for further instruction. After a pause she picked up the gun and held her hand out for a dart. Isaac stood quietly as, after some shaking, Allison loaded the gun herself. He could almost hear her teeth grinding in frustration. But she had done it.

“Come on. Let’s go to the reserve,” she said, her tone no longer whispering, instead it commanded a power and Isaac understood why Argent women led their clan.

Isaac followed her to her car, she slammed the trunk, gun inside, rather forcefully and was driving before Isaac had even shut his door. Allison, upon seeing Scott riding in front of the jeep, tailed them onto the back roads of the woods. They came to a sharp stop and went to join the others. Scott stared from Lydia and Stiles to Isaac, finally resting on Allison, his eyes seemed wider than usual.

“Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?” Lydia said stiffly.

“We’re trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter,” Scott said emphatically. 

“Actually,” Isaac began a little awkwardly. “We’re trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote, who is actually his daughter, who we don’t know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter.” Isaac listed off, again, the situation at hand.

“And again with the not helping,” Stiles said and Isaac nodded, a sarcastic smile returning in the face of Stiles’ quip.

Scott ignored them and turned to Allison, “did you bring it?”

Allison went to the trunk, retrieving the gun with a look of determination. She took a deep breath, looking through the trees with a marksman’s eye. With a bang that rattled in the ears of the two wolves, a gunshot rang through the trees.

Without hesitation, Scott returned to his bike, launching himself forward through the leaves.

“Wait wait wait wait!” Stiles chased after his friend a little uselessly and Isaac took off at a sprint after him.

Even Isaac couldn’t keep up with Scott’s bike and eventually slowed so Allison could follow behind him. Isaac stopped, trying to catch a scent. There was no need as two gunshots followed the first. Isaac took off once again, the hunter right behind him.

“Isaac, wait!” Allison called breathlessly after him not realizing that the werewolf was already slowed down for her. Until he caught the scent. A human and a coyote, as well as Scott, ahead. He sprinted ahead. He looked back, making sure Allison could follow him.

Sharp, searing pain encompassed his leg and he collapsed to the ground with an almost inhuman scream. A bear trap now had his ankle crushed between its jaws. The chain pegged into the ground yanked painfully on the open wound. Isaac felt blinded by the agony of it, clawing at the ground and gasping desperately for air. Blood now seeped into the hem of his pants and the shattered bones of his ankle crackled unpleasantly. Isaac desperately tried to pry himself free, now vaguely aware of a man with a gun ahead of them. It had to be Malia’s father. Worse, he could smell the coyote nearby.

Allison skidded to a halt beside him.

“Allison, there he is,” Isaac gasped. “H-Hit Tate. Use the tranq on him,” he stammered out. “Okay?” He stared blearily up at her, as she attempted to steady her aim. He could see her hands trembling.

“Okay, come on,” Allison spoke to herself breathlessly, eyes wide.

With a sharp whoosh the first dart left the gun, embedding itself in a tree yards to Tate’s left.

“Allison,” Isaac spoke desperately, knowing Tate could fire at any moment. “Breathe.”

Allison steadied herself, murmuring something that sounded distinctly like french, and fired. Tate stared at the dart in his shoulder before collapsing. Isaac let out a gasp of relief despite the state of agony his leg was currently in and the hot blood now pooling along the edge of his shoe. Allison searched through her sight but Isaac already knew what had happened.

“Isaac, she’s gone,” Allison said.

Isaac, pulled desperately on the rings of metal but the strings kept it wedged tight.

“God, Isaac!” Allison gasped, falling to her knees beside him and his mangled leg.

Isaac’s attempts faltered as chills ran up his spine. A deafening howl now roared through the woods, his eyes flashing yellow and supernatural strength joined his adrenaline and he tore the jaws from their hinges, his leg immediately collapsing under his weight.

“Come on, come on I’ll help you up,” Allison slung her gun over her bag and heaved the tall boy to his feet. Isaac let out another cry of pain even as he felt the bones mending and skin repairing.

Allison helped him limp back towards the cars. “Wait,” Isaac said. “He did it.” He smelled two human bodies heading towards them and they turned back.  
Scott had his arm around a girl with matted hair now wrapped in his jacket. Her eyes looked wild as she stared around at the trees on unsteady legs.

“Isaac, could you go grab my bike?” He called ahead.

Isaac let out a cold laugh, “not until this finishes healing,” he referred to his bloodied leg.

When they reached their cars they found the Sheriff talking to Stiles and Lydia. He looked white with shock, staring at the girl as if she were a miracle.

“You got her!” Stiles whooped as if it had all been some fun game. Isaac rolled his eyes, his leg finally stable enough to put weight on it.

“Malia Tate?” Sheriff Stilinski said cautiously. The girl stared at his mouth for a moment, seeming confused. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Let’s get you to the station, so you can get cleaned up,” he pulled a blanket from his police car and wrapped the rest of her exposed body in it.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go get my bike,” Scott muttered before walking cautiously back into the woods.

“I’ll meet you at the station,” Stiles said before jogging over to his jeep. Allison and Lydia were already talking at rapid speed about their two experiences and Isaac found himself standing alone, leaning very gingerly on his good leg despite the healing being almost completely done.

The roar of Scott’s bike returned and he pulled to a stop beside Isaac, “let’s go home. I’m exhausted and I think the Sheriff can take it from here,” Scott said.


	28. Chapter 28

Isaac approached the school days later and was affronted by the twins talking to Scott and Stiles. Feeling rage begin to rise he went to Scott’s side, he realized, with offense, that they were asking to join the pack.

“There’s no reason to say no,” one of them said. Isaac honestly couldn’t tell the difference. They even smelled similar.

“I can think of one,” Isaac said coldly. “Like the two of you holding Derek’s claws while Kali impaled Boyd.” He wanted to tear into them for their hand in the death of his friend. “In fact I don’t know why we’re not impaling them right now.”

One of the twins let out a low growl, fangs out, eyes blue. Isaac felt no fear and instead a profound desire to retaliate. Scott grabbed his wrist, holding him back. Isaac smirked, his resentment still evident.

“Sorry, but they don’t trust you,” Scott told the pair. “And neither do I.”

Scott moved past them, Stiles and, grudgingly, Isaac following behind him.

They parted ways as Isaac went to Allison, planning on asking her for notes, despite that really only being an excuse.

“Hey, uh. Can I see your notes for the great depression?” Isaac said awkwardly.

“What, can’t be bothered to pay attention in history?” Allison teased.

“Not really,” Isaac said with a shrug.

Allison smiled softly and Isaac felt his heart skip a beat, “I don’t have them on me, but I’ll give them to you at lunch, okay?” She walked past him, her shoulder bumping into his playfully.

In a much better mood, Isaac went to rejoin Scott and Stiles.

“The hot girl?” Scott said.

“You are the hottest girl,” Stiles patted Scott’s arm in a weirdly motherly way before walking off.

“What?” Isaac said, his voice weak in his utter confusion. 

Scott, a strange look of understanding dawning on him, looked to Isaac, “I’m the hot girl.” Scott said certainly.

Isaac, now wondering if there were some drugs that did work on werewolves, nodded and said patronizingly, “yes you are.”

Scott laughed in a way that Isaac could only liken to a school girl before walking off, a skip in his step. Isaac stared after him with a bemused half grin. Isaac rarely understood Scott and Stiles’ relationship and resolved to never question it.

It only took an hour before Stiles came to him with more bullshit.

“Hey! Come on,” Stiles waved him over frantically where he was talking to Allison and Lydia.

“Why’re there so many cops here?” Isaac asked.

“Because a fucking bomber, not just any bomber, Barrow, that guy, escaped from the hospital and is now here,” Stiles said, his voice higher with nerves.

“Oh,” was all Isaac could manage. Why, why was it always them? Why did it always happen here?

“And guess what?” Stiles continued rambling as he forced them to follow him downstairs. “Apparently, he bombed the school bus because he saw kids with glowing eyes. Glowing eyes!”

“Barrow went after kids with glowing eyes?” Isaac said. This day just kept getting better and better. “He said those exact words?”

“Yeah, and no one knows how he woke up from the anesthesia, only that when they cut him open they found a tumor full of live flies,” Stiles said.

Isaac was tired. He was done. He was ready to go home and not deal with more of this weird shit. To make things even worse, Lydia has apparently been hearing flies buzzing. Fucking banshee powers.

“Okay, you know what? I vote we let the police handle this one,” Isaac said.

“Isaac,” Allison said, seeming affronted.

“I’ll be there if you need my help, you know I will, but what can we do?” Isaac pointed out.

“I’ll find Scott,” Stiles said.

“I’m going to go try and talk to the police,” Lydia said.

That left Allison and Isaac.

“We should go with them,” Allison said a little uncomfortably.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac mumbled. As they returned to the main floor Isaac found himself about to speak-

“There you are, Isaac!” Scott appeared by his side. “Come on, we need the twin’s help.”

Isaac’s annoyance for Scott switched over, “the twins? Are you kidding me?”

“We need all the wolf help we can to sniff this guy out,” Scott said, pulling his housemate down the hall and away from Allison.

“Why is it always our problem?” Isaac muttered. His friends never seemed to notice that he rarely was included on all the details of the plan. It was more like he was summoned when needed and then went along with it.

“Allison, come on. We’re going to need the bestiary,” Isaac heard Lydia pull Allison in the other direction.

“The police have stopped looking, but that’s because they don’t have what we have,” Scott stopped, facing the waiting twins and reached into a sack, pulling out an old hospital gown. “Our sense of smell.”

“Ethan and I will take the left hall,” Aiden, Isaac now realized which was which, nodded sharply and pulled his brother away through the basement hall. Isaac still had the urge to lash out towards their throats. Boyd and Erica still weighed heavily on his mind.

“Come on,” Scott seemed not to notice his partner’s anger and instead pulled him down to the other end of the dimly lit basement.

“So this is how it’s gonna be now? We trust them?” Isaac said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice as he peered around corners.

“Just because I’m letting them help doesn’t mean I trust them,” Scott said. Somehow that didn’t comfort Isaac.

“Yeah well, I don’t trust them either,” Isaac muttered ruefully. His mind brought up those fond memories of his weak and damaged body desperately trying to cling to the back of a motorcycle as those two freaks chased after him and the mercenary who had pulled him away from that hell. “Or like them.” The sound of Boyd’s dying breath seemed to return to his ears. “In fact, I hate them and just want them to die.”

“Well, if Barrow’s actually here and he’s got a plan, you might get what you want,” Scott said it like it was a bad thing but Isaac found himself unable to control a smile from forming at the thought. They’d deserve it. For the people they’d hurt, a bomb sounded perfect.

Just as they turned the next corner, a fire alarm erupted upstairs, causing them to turn with back with a slight jump of nerves. Scott and Isaac glanced at one another before running back for the stairs.

Once they got upstairs Scott rushed off to find Stiles, Isaac reluctantly running behind him with the twins.

“We didn’t find anything,” Aidan said.

“Not even a scent,” Scott told him.

“It’s 3:00, so school’s over,” Stiles seemed to be thinking hard. “If there was a bomb, wouldn’t he have set it off by now?”

“Does that mean everybody’s safe?” Ethan asked. Not likely, Isaac thought.

“I don’t know,” Lydia said. She looked worried. Almost afraid. Banshee shit. Great. “I just… I don’t know. Something isn’t right.”

“But if there’s nothing here, what can we do?” Scott pointed out.

“I don’t know, go home, I guess?” Lydia snapped.

“Maybe we should-” Scott began until.

“Mr. McCall, Scott,” Mr. Yukimura, the history teacher and apparently Kira’s father, had approached the group.

“Y-Yeah?” Scott said, eyes wide in surprise.

“I want to thank you, properly for protecting my daughter,” Mr. Yukimura began. “I’d like to invite you to dinner with my family to do that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Scott said, looking surprised yet flattered.

“And I’m sure Kira being there has nothing to do with it,” Isaac muttered to Stiles and Lydia. They both seemed to suppress smiles.

“Isaac, could you tell mom I won’t be home for dinner?” Scott was looking unusually smiley that evening.

“Sure thing,” Isaac said, he felt both annoyed with Scott’s sappiness and also somewhat endeared to it.

“Wish me luck,” and with that Scott hurried downstairs. A minute later, Isaac heard his bike take off down the street.

Isaac began to pace the house, feeling bored in its emptiness. Deciding he couldn’t bear it, he scribbled a note to Melissa, who wouldn’t get home until late anyways, and began to walk the streets of Beacon Hills. Feeling a bit like a teen vagrant, with his head low and hands shoved in his pockets, he tried to decide on a course of action. Allison. She was probably still combing through the bestiary. The least he could do was go and help. It was still cold out. And walking to downtown always took a while. He wondered… Isaac glanced around at the quiet streets. Then he took off running. An incredibly wolfish and somehow incredibly human part of him felt his endorphins fire off as the wind pulled at his cardigan and the journey to Allison’s apartment felt so much simpler. He got there, breathless, his hair a little wild, some fifteen minutes later. By which time it was truly dark out. He made his way to the lobby. The door was locked. Damnit. Murderer on the loose, building locks its doors at dusk.

Out of all the nights to scale a building - again - he was grateful it was this one. He tried to tell himself it was just because he’d woken up from the run here but he knew the truth was that he was grateful for some alone time with Allison. Isaac focused on moving up the fire escape so those thoughts wouldn’t surface. Isaac pulled himself up, finally, onto the sill, rather loudly, of the window rather into the Argent living room. Feeling somewhat smug at his timing, and hoping that Allison would be grateful for his arrival, Isaac reached to open the window, only when it was too late did he notice the faint buzzing of wiring.

Isaac let out a yelp that was more puppyish than wolfish and fell back onto the fire escape. His fingers now tingling slightly and also feeling a little pissed off he forced the window open with another squeal before rolling awkwardly onto the Argent’s floor.

Once he got his bearings, he heard a heartbeat coming from the study.

“Electrified the windows?” Isaac said with a deep breath, feeling a little grouchy now.

“Yep,” Allison said. Isaac could tell she was smug.

“Didn’t want to say anything about it?” He frowned. Sure she was justified, probably tired of werewolves climbing in her window whenever they pleased, but he couldn’t appreciate that when he was the one getting shocked.

“Nope,” she said, still staring at the computer.

“Okay,” Isaac said with defeated sigh, he joined her by the desk.

“What’re you doing here?” Allison said with the most amazing little teasing smile. Isaac tried not to notice it.

“Figured you could use an extra pair of eyes,” Isaac said, his excuse coming off awkward.

Allison’s tired sigh proved that she appreciated it regardless. Isaac coughed slightly, standing awkwardly - why was he so awkward now that he was here? - and stared at the pages on screen.

“Can you read latin?” Allison asked rhetorically.

“No,” Isaac replied anyways. “But I can look at pictures,” he finished lamely, trying not to notice Allison’s dimples out of the corner of his eyes.

Tried to avoid her eyes he clicked on the nearest image Allison had pulled up associated with the symptoms they were facing. A mask. Red and violent. Not good and hopefully not what they were up against. Allison and him looked at each other, discomfort evident.

There too many legends of demons in the world. When were one of the saints going to be real?

“That Kira girl, she talked about demons, didn’t she?” He said slowly.

“Yeah and… well. It isn’t impossible,” Allison said glumly. “Not in our world, anyways.”

“Is there anything to do with flies and demons, though? That’s what we’re looking for, right?” Isaac asked.

“No, but come on, I’ve been printing off stuff all night. Just to try and make sense of it,” Allison stood, heading to her room where papers, some in latin and some in English, were scattered over her bed.

Isaac watched her eyebrows furrow and how she bit her lip as she rustled through the papers. Feeling a strange lightness in his chest, he moved to join her.

“Start on that side,” she directed him to the other side of her bed where he began to skim through, avoiding the latin pages.

Fugit porto nuntiis a mortuis

Dominus de musca

Ventrem in morte

Beelzebub. What the hell was a beelzebub?

Isaac rubbed his temple. Google translate could go to hell. Isaac managed to figure out some archaic bullshit about flies and… satan? Isaac’s hands began to fidget with the papers, his hands shifting restlessly. Isaac looked up at Allison who for all appearances was focused on what she was reading. If not for the small smile now creeping up her lips under his gaze. Isaac, after a moment of appreciating her smile, realized what he was doing, his pale cheeks turned red, and he looked away. His hands more lost than ever as he moved mindlessly though the paper.

“Could you, uh, could you go print the file labelled ‘mortem omen’ for me?” She asked him.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac jumped to his feet, leaving the room a little quickly, feeling unsettled still by the fact that Allison’s presence made him like this. Flustered and like some doey eyed Scott.

Isaac reentered the Argent study and printed the folder. Mortem Omen. Not too hard to guess. Death Omens. While the printer whirred loudly Isaac tried to get his head back on straight. Scott’s ex. Scott’s ex off limits.

But… Scott was at Kira’s house right now, wasn’t he?

Isaac was falling so hard. And he was starting to think - hope? - that Allison might like him back. The printer had been silent for too long. He grabbed the papers a little aggressively and headed back to Allison’s room. He still didn’t feel committed to either plan. Allison or no Allison.

He entered the room slowly. It was his attempt at being casual.

“So, you find anything?” He said, before walking to her side of the bed and tossing the papers onto the pile.

“Uh, there’s a reference about flies being able to carry messages to the dead,” Allison said, still all business, as if she hadn’t noticed her flustered partner in crime. Isaac found himself sitting directly behind her, his body deciding Scott did not matter when it came to sitting close to Allison. “What about you?”

“Oh just…” Isaac leaned past her, pointing out the strange word on the page. “Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies.” He was now acutely aware of how close this act had brought them together.

Allison seemed to notice it too, she bit her lip and turned to look back at him with what he hoped wasn’t distaste. She was staring at his lips now, not that he noticed that as he was too busy staring at her eyes. Isaac, almost entirely unaware of his actions, felt himself drawn inexplicably closer, her lips…

She turned away, a strange sort of smile now on her face.

“Are you serious?” She said and it was not what he had expected.

“What?” His voice replied so hushed and hoarse he knew he was in too deep to come out of it.

“You were just trying to kiss me,” Allison said, something aloof and amused about her but part of him didn’t believe it for a second.

“No I wasn’t,” his hushed voice still came off a little embarrassed, bashful even. It was a very new look on Isaac. He felt a smile creeping on his lips as this strange flirtation continued. He wasn’t an idiot, despite what Allison said, she was flirting back.

“Then what were you trying to do, head-butt me?” She teased, but their faces were still very close together.

He stared at her for a moment, chewing on his lip. “Alright, maybe I was trying to kiss you.” He could not pretend any longer and Scott being with Kira felt like permission and now really all he wanted to do was kiss her. He was starting to think despite her sarcasm she felt the same way.

Allison was now holding back a smile and then surprised Isaac by getting to her feet, still convinced in pushing him away.

“Are you completely totally out of your mind?” Now standing with that Argent defiance, she gaped at him. “You actually think that I would want to kiss you?” Her blushing gave way to her lie. “Or… or any other werewolf again?” Ah, she was playing the werewolf card. That was fair if he couldn’t literally feel the lie in her heartbeat. “Because trust me on this.”

“Oh?” He said, his voice still hushed and now amused.

“I would never kiss you.”

“Never, huh?” He fucking adored her.

“Ever.”

“Never, okay. Alright, fine,” Isaac found himself on his feet also, yanking his shirt over his head, “I won’t kiss you either.”

Allison, looking like she was either about to punch him or jump into his arms, pulled her shirt off as well and suddenly Scott was most definitely not a thought in his head. All he thought about was Allison and the fire in her eyes that left him weak.

Which was why he did not hear someone enter the apartment until Allison’s bedroom door opened. Isaac felt the moment die brutally at the sight of Mr. Argent. Isaac grabbed his shirt, feeling a peculiar sort of panic mixed with embarrassment. Holy shit. They were both fucked and not in the way it seemed they had intended.

“Allison, can I see you in my office?” Mr. Argent said and Isaac didn’t need to be a werewolf to detect the pure anger in his voice. Oh fuck oh fuck her dad was a fucking hunter. And he had been worried about Scott?!

“Where I keep my guns,” Mr. Argent added rather unnecessarily, and Isaac looked at him nervously despite every instinct saying you don’t look a bear in the eyes.  
As Allison scurried after her father Isaac turned away from the door, panic setting in, “oh shit-”

“Another werewolf?!” Came the furious shout from down the hall and Isaac winced, whirling around as if to hear better, or to be prepared to dodge a wolfsbane bullet.

Isaac’s phone rang and interrupted his anxious pacing as the Argents argued in the other room. It was Scott. “Please tell me you got something. Barrow took Kira.”

“What?” He said, suddenly Argent no longer the most pressing danger.

“No time to explain, please tell me something!”

Isaac rustled through the papers anxiously, “no, nothing. Just stuff about flies and the dead, nothing else.”

“All right, thanks,” Scott sighed and hung up, running off to save the girl yet again.

But who was going to save him from Argent? Feeling more gloomy than afraid he spent the next half hour going through latin pages uselessly.

The light on the page flickered.

He stared overhead curiously as Allison’s chandelier flickered and died. Once, twice, then it was out. He stood in the dark room before suddenly he swore he felt the brush of someone moving behind him. With a prickle now going up his spine he turned and saw nothing. Yet another shadow passed out of the corner of his eyes and he turned. The room felt colder.

Suddenly the blurring figures stopped and he saw them. Masked beings in all black came from nothing and circled him. True terror set in. He heard the door slam just as they closed in on him. He felt a terrible pain in his chest as he was thrown back, he let out a cry of pain as he was attacked from all sides by figures he could barely see. They did not attack him with knives, it was like they wounded him with cold and shadow. He felt suffocated and vaguely aware of the Argents screaming his name and pounding on the door. These leering figures continued to wound him in a way beyond physicality and all he could see was black.

And their eyes. Glowing out to him an unearthly green and yellow.

He couldn’t move, he was so cold. The figures had left his vision but his mind and body felt crushed by this terrible cold and fear. He was going to die here. Alone in a locked room. Just as he had expected to.

Allison was suddenly kneeling beside him, her hands, warm and far more alive than his own flesh, pressed into his cheek. “Isaac! He’s freezing, dad. He’s like ice.”

“Isaac look at me,” Argent spoke and Isaac was more focused on surviving this strange coldness that he struggled to obey. “Isaac, you have to turn.”

“What happened to him?” Allison sounded on the verge of tears and Argent now shook his shoulders.

“Isaac, come on. Isaac listen you have to turn,” Argent was almost shouting at him. “Isaac, look at me, come on!” Isaac felt a burning pain his his cheek as Argent slapped him and the triggering action only sent him deeper into his spiral of fear.

“Turn!” Argent hit him again. “Turn!” Again. “Turn!” Again.

Isaac snapped, anger mixing with his panic attack and he felt warmth return to his veins as his eyes flashed yellow and he snarled. In doing so he came back to himself. He shot up, pressing himself into the end of Allison’s bed as this supernatural terror bled into the returning one of being hit over and over. He didn’t have the energy for shame as his face was wet with tears as well as sweat.

The figures.

“Did you see them?” Isaac whispered, staring urgently at the two of them for some consolidation.

“Who?” Allison whispered back and Isaac couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked that afraid.

“There were five of them,” Isaac’s voice trembled as he tried to comprehend the things that had almost killed him. “They wore black,” he scrambled for some description. “I couldn’t-I couldn’t see their faces, they were covered,” he rambled as his throat became choked with sobs.

“What do you mean? Like masks?” Allison’s attitude returned to one of leadership just as Isaac tried to provide her with information.

“One of them, I could see his eyes,” Isaac spoke with that same terror but he knew what this meant. “They were greenish-yellow.” Those beasts were from their world. “Like ah…” he had seen that color before. “Like a firefly.” He spoke the words through rattled gasps. There was something so deeply wrong about those creatures and that cold refused to truly leave him.

Argent stood, going to the window as Allison held tightly to his shoulder. Anchoring him.

“The security system wasn’t triggered,” Mr. Argent said.

“Then how’d they get in?” Allison asked him.

“They didn’t,” Isaac said, dread in his veins as well as cold. “It’s like they came out of the shadows.” How could you hide from something, defend yourself from something, that crawled out of the very walls? Isaac was still trying to catch his breath as the Argents took over.

“Do you know what that means?” Allison turned to her father. “Dad?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Mr. Argent now sounded hesitant which did not help calm Isaac. Argent returned to them, “listen you two, I’m gonna need you to keep this quiet for a few hours,” it was like he knew Isaac was now thinking of going to tell Scott. 

“From everyone?” Isaac was now trying to stifle his sniffling, feeling weak and wanting nothing more than to go and talk to the McCalls.

“Just 24 hours,” Mr. Argent said.

“They could’ve killed him, dad,” Allison whispered and Isaac’s attempts to collect himself felt crushed by this reminder. He was shaken so deeply.

“But they didn't,” Mr. Argent pointed out. What, did he expect Isaac to thank them? “And I think there was a reason why.” Isaac stared at him, a nagging feeling saying there was more to this. “I think… I think they were after me.”

Argent didn’t bother to explain and rather left in a hurry.

“Isaac, really, are you okay?” Allison asked. He realized that her hand hadn’t left his shoulder.

“Just, cold. Still really really cold,” Isaac muttered despite the cold being the least painful symptom he could think of.

“Come on, get up,” Allison pulled him to his feet on unsteady legs and wrapped him in the blanket thrown over her bed.

“So, I think Kira was right,” Isaac said, hoping his words would distract him from his trembling.

“What?”

“Demons. I’m thinking demons,” Isaac shivered once again, feeling as if he would never be warm again.


	29. Chapter 29

Isaac’s phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump. It was a text from Scott.

‘hey, would derek know if people were in his place?’

Feeling both confused and worried, he replied, forcing himself to give Argent those 24 hours, ‘what do you mean?’

‘Danny’s party is there. I think Ethan told him about it.’

‘Great. His alarm system is only for inside the building. He won’t know about it. But still one more thing for me to worry about.’

‘:( don’t worry about it man! You should come. And heads up there’s a curfew from the blackout’

Isaac stared at his phone, chewing on his lip. Then he looked up at Allison, who now sat on the end of her bed, rubbing her temples. Feeling a little bit like this was a mistake, he decided that a party was exactly what they needed.

“Hey, uh. You know about Danny’s blackout party?” Isaac brought it up carefully.

“Yeah?” Allison smirked at him and Isaac, now blushing, realized she was about to tease him for asking her on a date.

“Well, it’s at Derek’s, I think we should go just to make sure they don’t fuck up his place,” he muttered, knowing his lie was bullshit.

“Sure,” she said teasingly, “we can go, but just to make sure they don’t fuck up his place.”

Regardless of her teasing, Isaac was just grateful that she agreed to go.

“Shouldn’t you tell your dad where you’ll be?” Isaac asked as they entered the parking garage.

Allison gave him a look, “I would, if he deserved to know. Until he starts being honest with me, he doesn’t deserve shit.”

“Fair enough,” Isaac said, almost involuntarily feeling a swell of admiration at someone exacting revenge on their father, even if it was in a small way. Part of it was due to him always feeling some admiration for Allison ‘certified badass’ Argent.

“There’s like no one on the roads right now,” Allison frowned.

“The blackout. Everyone’s spooked and there’s a curfew,” Isaac pointed out.

“Good thing we’re good friends with the Sheriff’s kid,” Allison smirked. Now knowing the roads would remain dark and empty, she hit the gas, causing her classy little car to fling down the city roads.

Isaac’s stomach sank as he saw the cars all lined up outside Derek’s place. If Derek found out about this he’d never hear the end of it. The actual apartment building was silent and he almost hoped it wouldn’t be that bad as they rode the elevator up. He approached the thick metal door, his ears picking up on a lot of noise behind it, and slid it open.

His senses were bombarded by flashing lights and slightly obnoxious club music.

“Derek can never know about this,” Isaac said loudly, staring at the painted bodies and the guarantee of paint being splattered on the brick walls of the loft.

There was something both ridiculous and beautiful about the kids all clashing together with animals and oceans painted on their skin. He could smell the sweat mixed with the chemicals of the paint and it made him lightheaded.

But not in a bad way.

Allison said something to him but he couldn’t catch it over the music.

“What?” He shouted back.

“I’m gonna go get a drink!” She said before leaving him at the entrance. Isaac didn’t bother to follow her as he couldn’t get drunk but still found himself feeling awkward standing alone. Yet following her and encountering Scott...

Isaac’s eyes found his housemate. He was with Kira. With a strange feeling in his chest - relief? - he realized Scott was holding her hand. He soon lost Scott to the crowd and tried to distract himself from his awkwardness with the hypnotic blur of colors and people.

Allison’s unpainted form moved like a shadow through the colorful crowd and she rejoined him.

“Did you see Scott?” Isaac said.

“Yep,” Allison said, sounding just as uncomfortable as Isaac felt.

“You tell him what happened?” He asked.

“No, we still have a couple hours, remember?” Allison said. “We promised my dad?”

His loyalty to Scott caused him to bite back, “you promised your dad.”

“I promised him in order to protect him,” Allison seemed to grow irritated.

“You did,” he said again, feeling resentful of keeping secrets from Scott. “I didn’t.”

“Is protecting my father such a bad thing?” Allison said, with that dangerous sort of smile she would sometimes get.

“I don’t like keeping secrets from Scott,” Isaac said coolly.

Allison stared at him with that teasing look again. Isaac didn’t mind it. “No you don’t,” Allison said. “You just like to stand there awkwardly, waiting for someone to notice us.” Isaac said nothing. “Whatever we are.” Isaac looked at her, unable to resist smirking at her despite feeling affronted by her honesty. “And then you like to make things…” She seemed a little upset with him. “Incredibly uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Isaac asked her.

She laughed at him with an eyeroll. “What do you think it means?”

Feeling a little nervous now, “I think it means you’re probably mad.”

“I’m not mad!” Allison said and Isaac realized he was starting to notice when Allison was lying to him. Well, he’d always been good at reading people. He had to be.

“No?” Isaac asked, probing for the truth.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Okay,” he shrugged, defeated.

Allison sighed, “I’m frustrated.”

Isaac, now feeling mischievous, wondered if he could prove her ‘making-things-uncomfortable’ point right, “sexually?”

She seemed to be holding back a laugh when Allison looked back at him. That alone was enough to make Isaac look away. Feeling a bit ridiculous, he turned back to her, both of them laughing.

She came closer to him, Isaac immediately turning away. Allison did not kiss him, as he had first thought - hoped? - instead she kept walking and approached one of the neon girls and took a paint brush. Isaac followed her, stopping in his tracks when Allison put a paintbrush in her mouth and unbuttoned her shirt. Isaac’s brain felt full of fireworks.

“Do you want to talk about Scott or do you want to paint my body?” Allison held out the paintbrush, her head tilted and her words taunting and Isaac was weak.

“I want to paint your body,” he was proud of himself for being able to say that and he took the brush from her.

His hands trembled slightly as he created swirls of green on her chest and neck as well as the top of her back. He made flowers bloom on her skin. 

“Paint my face too,” she said and Isaac found himself getting lost in her eyes as the brush climbed her cheeks. He stopped, and they both moved closer.

“You next, alright?” Allison whispered.

Allison brushed the cold paint over his face, the scent strong in his nose. Her face was so close to his he could feel her breath. He had no idea what she was painting but he didn’t care, he was too focused on her eyes. The brush created thicker lines connecting from his cheek, across his jaw and down his neck.

“Done,” Allison said softly but this close the words seemed to rattle in his ears. She smiled, “what?” Allison asked in the face of his probably dopey grin.

“Dance with me,” Isaac said before pulling her by the hand and spinning her closer to him.

Allison laughed and spiralled, colliding back into him. There they stopped, eyes locked and god Isaac could get lost in hers. Allison’s hands brushed gently across his chest and Isaac’s hand cupped her cheek. They moved inexorably closer and their lips were a hair’s breadth away…

Then she pulled back, a different, far more worrying intensity in her eyes.

“What?” He asked, his voice soft, still lost in the past moment. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something on your head,” Allison said. Not what he had expected. She pulled his head to the side, “it’s behind your ear.” Cold dread replaced his butterflies.

Feeling a little lost, he allowed Allison to pull him by the hand from the crowd, his hand feeling at his head at a strange series of lines that had risen behind his ear. Allison paused in the hall.

“Bathroom,” Isaac nodded down the corridor and Allison pulled him there faster.

Heart racing, Allison grabbed his jaw, pulling him towards the sink, “turn towards the mirror, turn towards the mirror,” she spoke quickly and urgently and the music faded as the events from earlier that night returned to the forefront of his mind instead. Allison guided his head and Isaac pushed down his ear, with a jolt in his stomach he saw a black symbol, almost tattooed, behind his ear.

“What is that?” He said.

“Looks like the number five,” Allison said quietly. Somehow, she was right. There was a 5 etched into his skin.

With a voice so faint only Isaac could hear it, a groan came from nearby.

“Did you hear that?” Isaac turned to her, Allison looked confused. There it was again.

Behind them, curled unconscious in a corner, was Ethan.

Isaac shoved aside the buckets of ice, “what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s… he’s like you were,” Allison said.

Isaac shook Ethan violently, trying to force him back to reality. Phantom pains and memories crawled to the surface. Ethan would not thank him for this. Isaac grabbed onto his arm.

“What’re you doing?” Allison asked.

“It’ll trigger the healing,” he said before gritting his teeth and snapping the bone.

Ethan returned to them with a snarl, before slumping over, weak and cold.

Allison turned his head to the side immediately.

5.

“It’s the same, it’s exactly the same,” Allison said.

So much for romance, Isaac thought ruefully.

“Help me get him up,” Allison said. As they each pulled an arm around their shoulders, Isaac heard something.  
Derek’s howl.

“Derek, I hear Derek,” Isaac filled Allison in.

“Oh god,” Allison said and Isaac remembered not only was there something in the shadows but there had been a party in Derek’s place. Shit.

As they dragged Ethan back towards the main room Isaac flinched at the roar of Derek shouting, “GET. OUT!” Followed by hundreds of feet heading quickly for the doors.

They returned to an empty living room.

Empty, except for some werewolves and masked beings.

Isaac’s blood ran cold, but they did not attack him, instead they turned towards a face identical to the one between him and Allison.

“Guys, why are they all looking at me?” Aiden asked the room. “Why are they all looking at me?!” The shadow men stepped closer. “Guys?!” Aiden called for help as they stepped forward again.

Derek and Scott reacted first and the room was soon a whirlwind of claws and black mist in the darkness. Isaac was for a moment relieved.

Until Derek snapped one’s neck and it got back up.

Scott was thrown to the ground soon after and Isaac left Ethan to Allison, his own claws out. He would at least try.

The creature turned to face him. It reached into its own chest. Isaac stopped. It drew a sword from inside of itself and Isaac found his courage had left him. He was not planning on dying for Aiden.

“Somebody do something!” Allison shouted but it was too late. Those creatures held Aiden fast, one of them held onto his skull, staring into what seemed to be his very soul.

Aiden collapsed to the ground and the shadow men turned towards Scott, who was all red eyes and growls, and Isaac decided that maybe he wouldn’t die for Aiden, but Scott was another matter.

Before he could martyrize himself, the creatures stopped. Why did they stop? Isaac saw their bodies turn to smoke when faced with sunrise. That was it? Sunlight and they vanish?

“What the hell were those things?” Scott was the first to speak.

Isaac had to tell them. He turned to Allison, feeling it was only fair to warn her, “your dad’s 24 hours are up.”

“Do what you have to do. I’m calling him,” Allison agreed.

“Isaac, what’re you talking about?” Scott asked.

“This isn’t new. Those things, they attacked me last night,” Isaac said, his jaw tense.

“Why are you only telling us this now?” Scott sounded almost accusing.

“Because Argent made us promise to give him time,” Isaac said. “He knows something about this and it’s been long enough. He better explain,” he turned back to Allison, who looked worried.

“He’s not picking up, I need to go home,” Allison said.

“I’ll go with you,” Isaac said.

“I’m coming too. Argent has some explaining to do,” Derek frowned.

“And what gives you the right to get those answers?” Isaac snapped at him.

Derek said nothing, only pulled back his ear, revealing that symbol carved into his skin.

“No fighting,” Scott interjected. “I’ll meet you guys at Allison’s,” he looked back at Kira. Isaac had forgotten she was there. She looked shellshocked. “I, uh, have my own explaining to do.”

“Come on,” Allison muttered, pulling Isaac towards the exit. Isaac was hyper aware of Derek following.

Allison walked quickly ahead, “are you okay with him coming?” She whispered.

“I can hear you,” Derek said gruffly.

“Then I’m sure you can also hear this- fuck off!” Allison snapped. “Maybe you should focus on fixing your loft.”

“You can’t stop me from-”

Derek bossing her around struck a chord with him, “stay here, Derek!” Isaac shouted.

Derek looked affronted. “You don’t have the right to-”

“I have the right to do whatever I want,” Isaac pulled away from Allison and turned to face Derek with his hands balled into fists. “You’re not the alpha anymore, Derek. And certainly not my alpha.”

Isaac stormed ahead, mashing the elevator button and swift to leave Derek behind.

“You okay?” Allison said quietly once they were alone in the elevator.

“What?” Isaac’s tone came out clipped.

“You’re allowed to be angry, Isaac,” she said.

“He just-” Isaac burst out. “How long has he been back?!” His voice broke and his rage turned to loss. Allison reached out and gently touched his arm. “He hasn’t said anything or talked to anyone, he disappeared for months and now-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Allison held onto him tightly and Isaac found himself calmed.

“God, why are you comforting me? Your dad is the one missing,” Isaac mumbled.

“Yeah, well. We should probably go then,” Allison said. They hurried to her car, the roads once again cleared as the youth ran home due to both the curfew and Derek’s anger.

“And do what?” Isaac said quietly.

“Fix things.”


	30. Chapter 30

So. Argent dealt guns to Yakuza members in his youth. Not a big deal. Except he also met demons there. The same ones hunting them now. That was a big deal.

And now he was stuck with the Argents, getting into contact with a surviving yakuza member. That same man who beat the hell out of Argent for trying to find him. What could go wrong?

“So you really think some old mask will convince this Katashi guy to talk to you?” Isaac asked.

“And what if he doesn’t know what was possessing that man, and we did all of this for nothing?” Allison said.

“It’s our best lead,” Argent said coldly, pacing his office.

“Yeah, and how do you plan on talking to him? Do you know how to contact him without getting your face beat in?” Isaac said.

“I do, but the problem isn’t finding his people, it’s getting to him,” Argent said. “The real problem is Katashi doesn’t see visitors. Ever. He’s a paranoid recluse who rarely steps outside the gates of his estate.”

Isaac didn’t see how this helped, “so how are you going to get to him?”

“He’s got a thing for rare, antique weapons,” Argent said. “Yesterday, I had some contacts put out the word that I was selling one from my own collection.” Ah. The terrifying Argent collection.

Argent pulled out a glass case from a cabinet, containing what Isaac would describe as a fancy gun.

Argent rather described it as: “A French Flintlock Turnover Pistol from 1645.”

“You’re not going alone,” Allison said firmly.

While feeling reluctant, if Allison went, Isaac went with her. “If she’s going, I’m going.”

“To be honest, I don’t feel good about bringing either one of you,” Argent said. That’s fair, Isaac reasoned. But time was short, and he feared they would attack someone else when the sun set.

“They were looking right at Scott when the sun came up,” Isaac said.

“Well that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s the one they’re going after,” Argent said. Who else was there?

“But if he is?” Allison pointed out what Isaac was thinking.

“If he is, that might only leave us till nightfall to come up with a way to protect him,” Argent was sounding about as optimistic as Isaac.

“All right,” Isaac stood, feeling anxious to get this over with, “let’s go see if a paranoid yakuza wants to put another gun in his collection,” Isaac said sarcastically.

“You don’t sound very confident,” Argent said coldly.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m coming. As if you couldn’t benefit from bringing a werewolf along,” Isaac replied.

“I don’t see much benefit from you being here, actually,” Argent snapped, obviously remembering walking in on Isaac and his daughter the night before.

“Stop bickering so my dad can tell us his plan,” Allison rolled her eyes. “You do have a plan, right?”

“Well, ideally you both wait in the car, I offer the gun in exchange for information,” Argent said. Allison opened her mouth to argue. “Either you both wait in the car or you don’t come at all,” he snapped.

“Dad, this is dangerous,” Allison pointed out the obvious.

“Exactly, which is why we cannot do anything to make Katashi more nervous. Bringing along you two would do that. It isn’t exactly standard to have an entourage of teenagers,” Argent said.

“So, how long until we go?” Isaac asked.

“Katashi would’ve preferred to make this kind of deal at night, but since that isn’t an option for us, I’ve convinced him to see us at noon. Soonest I could,” Argent said.

“Noon?” Isaac snapped. “It’s barely past dawn, what’re we supposed to do until then?”

“Sleep,” Argent said. “I know you both had an all nighter and if you want to be of any use to me you’d better be rested.”

“Fine,” Allison sighed, slouching back in her seat as if she finally had permission to be exhausted.

“Isaac, you can take the couch,” Argent said pointedly.

“Yes sir,” Isaac muttered sarcastically. Much like Allison, exhaustion started to weigh him. Climbing through Allison’s window to research Barrow felt like a lifetime ago.

Allison, obviously in spite of her father, pulled Isaac out of the office by his hand. Regardless of her intentions, Isaac felt lighter when her fingers were intertwined with his.

“You seem worried,” Isaac was pointing out the obvious with Allison chewing on her lip with her eyebrows furrowed together, but he wanted her to be able to decide if she wanted to talk about it or not.

“Yeah, well. If I wasn’t there would be something wrong with me,” Allison said. “I’ll get you a blanket,” she did not want to talk about it, evidently.

Allison tossed him a spare blanket and made to leave much too quickly.

“Allison,” Isaac moved to stop her. She did, but she did not turn around to face him. “You’re dad is okay.”

“Yeah, well. Scott might not be,” she said quietly. It hurt. Isaac was thinking the exact same thing but it still somehow hurt to hear how much she cared about him.

“I know, but we’re going to help him. I promise we can help him,” Isaac said. They both knew he was lying.

“Isaac, come on,” Allison shook Isaac’s shoulder.

“I’m up,” Isaac mumbled, trying to get his bearings.

“We have to go, that is, if you still want to,” Allison said, her bow in her other hand.

“I’m coming,” Isaac said firmly.

“Yes, and you’ll both be in the car should I need you,” Mr. Argent said pointedly.

“Yes dad,” Allison rolled her eyes, as if her father were setting a curfew and not bringing her and her new boyfriend along to deal with dangerous mob members.

Isaac found himself in the back seat while the two Argents discussed strategy, well, more like Allison questioned her father on the situation and pushed to come along.

“Dad, you don’t know how many of his people will be there and you might not be able to call for help if you need it-”

“Allison, either you agree to wait or I stop the car and you get out right now,” Argent said with gritted teeth.

Allison folded her arms and pouted for the rest of the drive, only perking up when her father stopped behind what looked like an abandoned warehouse.

“If I’m not back within a half hour, then - and only then - will you follow me,” Argent said sharply as he contacted the Yakuza that they had arrived.

His phone buzzed in reply and he let out an irritated huff.

“What is it?” Allison, while worried, also jumped at the chance to follow her father into fire.

“Katashi won’t do the buy in person,” Argent actually sounded surprised.

“But he’s a paranoid recluse, shouldn’t you be a little less surprised?” Isaac snarkily responded.

“I was trying to remain optimistic that we wouldn’t have to go to my plan b,” Argent said, sounding resigned.

Argent had neglected to inform them of any other plans, “plan B, and what’s plan B?” Isaac asked, knowing from Argent’s annoyance it would involve at the very least Allison.

“How tall are you?” Argent asked.

Isaac blinked. The trunk opened. It would involve him as well it seemed. Isaac turned to look out the back, a little bemused since up until this point he hadn’t had much intention of getting out of the car.

“What are…?” Isaac said quietly.

“Come on, get out of the car,” Argent nodded outside. “Allison, get that folder for me, will you?”

“Okay, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Isaac followed after Argent.

“I can’t make the deal and talk to Katashi, but you’re going to make it for me,” Argent pulled out the pressed suit he had intended to wear to the buyout.

“I’m going to what?” Isaac’s voice was a few octaves higher.

“You are going to go in there and say some bullshit about this gun while Allison and I find Katashi and talk to him, got it?” Argent said. “In this bag is the gun, the proof of ownership and historical accuracy, and a bill counter. If talking isn’t enough of a stall either pull out the papers or count the money. While you get changed, Allison and I need to figure out where that bastard is camped out.” He shoved the suit into Isaac’s hands as well as a bunch of papers from the folder before returning to Allison and unrolling blueprints.

“I-”

“Just get changed, Isaac,” Argent said.

Isaac, now shaking a bit, scrambled into the suit which was a bit big while also desperately trying to read over the notes Argent had given him. He also felt mildly concerned about what the Yakuza would think if someone happened to look outside and see a teenager stumbling around in his boxers. That would be a horrible state to die. Maybe they had a sniper who was about to take him out half dressed behind the Argent’s car. Really would hold up the Lahey legacy. He pulled on his shirt and tried to read the papers.

Historically restored perfect condition with working revolving over and under barrels… god, should he make the deal in Japanese as well?

The words started to blur as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, thanking his dickbag father for teaching him how to tie a tie. He hadn’t worn a suit since… since, well, they’d had a ‘funeral’ for his brother. Although funerals were all show when the deceased was technically MIA. Focus, Isaac. Come on, couldn’t someone just tell him to fight something? Isaac couldn’t lie, that trait had been kicked out of him early. He shook himself again and tied the surprisingly well fitting black dress shoes.

“Guys?” Isaac’s voice was still a little high. “This isn’t going to work,” he stammered still. “I look ridiculous,” he gestured unnecessarily to his ill fitting suit. Argent assessed the damage and he did not look too confident. “I mean…” he pulled at the jacket, noting with embarrassment that he hadn’t thought to tuck his shirt in. “I-I look like I just stepped out of the last period of a c-catholic prep school,” he started to ramble. Allison looked nothing short of amused which he did not appreciate. “And, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to remember all this!” He stared at the crumpled paper still clutched in his fist, “I mean, what does this even mean? ‘Revolving over and under barrels’?” Isaac sighed, wondering if they could just kill the Yakuza members and find Katashi the more… direct way.

“All you have to do is keep them talking long enough to allow us to get inside and find Katashi,” Argent said firmly.

Isaac bit back an ‘oh, is that all?’ and tried to focus on what year this gun was made, god, what was it? 1800s? He was horrible at history. This was not stupid teenage werewolves. These were fully grown, trained killers.

“You look great,”Allison said with a soft smile, Isaac didn’t even have the will to appreciate that.

“I am sweating, all the way through my jacket!” Is what came out instead of a thank you. “I-I didn’t even know that I could sweat this much.” What use was a werewolf with anxiety issues?

Allison crinkled her nose, “give me a second,” she shooed her father away.

Argent, obviously resisting the urge to object, backed off, although he did give Isaac some raised eyebrows.

Allison pulled him behind the car by his hand, pulling him closer as he stared at his shoes.

“You can do this,” Allison said firmly. Was her confidence in him supposed to make him feel better because right now it was only making him feel worse.

Isaac sighed, looking away from her and shuffling nervously.

“You’re not a boy if you walk in there acting like a man,” Allison said slowly, the tenderness in her voice did make him feel something besides fear but it was not confidence either. Isaac still moved to brush her off. “Okay?” Allison, with her own unwavering confidence, began to tuck in his shirt, “go in there with confidence.” He wasn’t trying to be pathetic right now, but was he really supposed to be focusing on her words right now? “And all they’ll see,” she began to tease, “is a boyish looking man.” She gave him a soft smile and Isaac’s anxiety began to melt under the fondness he felt for her, not to mention how much he wanted to kiss her as her hands brushed against his skin.

And the anxiety came back, “or a stupid teenager pretending to be a man,” Isaac muttered. Yakuza. Fucking deadly gang who definitely knew enough to kill a werewolf, “I’m going to get my head blown off by a bunch of japanese, fingerless mobsters,” not on his long list of how he expected to die.

Before he could continue his rambling, Isaac’s brain seemed to short circuit because Allison’s hands were cupping his face and her lips were pressed against his and he couldn’t think about anything else except how soft her skin was pressed against his. Her hands slid down his chest and pulled his weak, helpless hands around her waist. Then lower. She pulled back slowly and it was like she had given him a shot of whiskey. Fear no longer existed, only fire in his throat and his gut. His whole body seemed to tingle.

Allison knew exactly what she had done, she hopped slightly on her heels, a smug little smile on that face he was so smitten with, “how do you feel now?”  
Isaac, almost instinctively, leaned closer to her lips, until somehow his brain turned back on and he shook himself like a wet dog. Despite the danger he was incapable of stopping the smile now rising on his lips.

Isaac turned, somehow feeling tall enough to fill out the oversized suit.

“Now I’m almost hoping they’ll shoot you,” Argent let out a defeated sigh before slightly aggressively shoving the gun case into his hands. Isaac didn’t care. He was still on cloud nine.

“Wait,” Allison called him back, and Isaac, unknowingly with a dopey grin, turned back to her in the hopes of another kiss. (Hours later he would think back on his mood and fearfully wonder if he was turning into Scott.) Allison did not kiss him, much to his disappointment, and instead put a pair of black shades onto his almost glowing eyes.

“I can control my eyes,” he said a little confused. “Blue, see?”

“Not for werewolf stuff,” Allison grinned. “For effect.”

“Jesus, you two, this is dangerous, remember?” Argent grumbled.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Allison continued to tease him.

Straightening his jacket one more time, he approached the massive sliding door and after a moment of hesitation knocked sharply three times. With a grinding sound the door slid open, Isaac did his best to ignore the two burly men now at either side of him and walked forward with his chest out. If he was going to do this, he would go for it a hundred percent.

With a smirk, Isaac pulled off the shades, glancing to the man at his left lazily, “Gentlemen, I believe Mr. Katashi is expecting me.”

“I’m expecting you,” an absurdly deep voice boomed down from the loft overhead. A man even larger than the two on either side of him stared down with folded arms. Big men did not scare Isaac. Power mattered more than how much weight they could pack on.  
Isaac stared at the man’s hands as they slid down the banister. Clawed hands. Power.

Isaac remained aloof, his jaw tense, as the man made point of scraping his claws against the metal. Isaac rarely appreciated show, although he was no stranger to intimidation, and he found the man’s attempts weak at best. Claws were worthless with someone who didn’t know how to use them. Isaac wasn’t stupid though, men like Katashi did not hire braindead thugs. And to be honest, Isaac had not expected a werewolf.

A wooden table stood alone in the center of the room. The man in charge approached one side and Isaac on the other. The other muscle did not stop crowding Isaac on either side. Although considering their lack of claws they were a nuisance at best.

“Shall we?” The man’s booming voice gestured to the table and Isaac laid out the polished wooden box from the case.

“What we’re looking at here is a mint condition French Flintlock turnover pistol,” Isaac began, opening it slowly to show the gun that he actually knew virtually nothing about. Isaac looked up to the man, head high, “crafted in the mid seventeenth century. It was a gift, from Louis XIV to a prominent french family,” he hoped that all sales pitches sounded this rehearsed. “It’s only ever been fired once.”

“During a duel between brothers,” the baritone bodyguard did not look at the gun, he rather stared at Isaac. “On the grounds of the palace of Versailles.”  
Isaac did not remember that on the sheet, “so you’re familiar with it,” Isaac’s stammar returned. Was he supposed to know the gun’s fucking backstory?

“Mr. Katashi knows what he wants,” the bodyguard still sounded good natured, even amused, but Isaac wasn’t so confident that things were really going well. “We’ll take it.” No, they couldn’t accept so soon, he needed more time. The man extended his clawed hand and unlatched his own case. “150,000.” Isaac couldn’t help but feel his heart race at the sight of the cash.

He thought quickly of how to stall. He remembered the other tool Argent had provided him with. “I’m gonna need to count it,” Isaac said, still stammering slightly.

“Oh, really?” The man began to call his bluff.

“Yeah,” Isaac’s voice came out a whisper as it tended to do when he wasn’t confident.

He pulled out the electronic bill counter also in the bag. He hoped that this thing took a long time. Not only that, but now he had to pretend that he knew how to use this thing. He just had to act confident. A little defiantly Isaac slammed the machine on the table and put one of the stacks of bills into the slot, hoping that the werewolf could not detect his relief that that was all he had to do for it to work as bills began to churn out the other side as the number wracked up.  
Isaac continued to shuffle through the stacks of money, acutely aware of the man staring him down across the table. Isaac reached towards the case again, only to be cut off by the man slamming the case shut. Feeling almost genuinely offended despite this whole exchange being a ruse, he glanced up at the man, hand still hovering next to the case. Isaac’s jaw was clenched in irritation, staring right back at the man, unwilling to even blink.

“You don’t know the whole story behind this gun, do you?” The man said. If he wanted to use up more time on a history lesson, Isaac didn’t mind. Something about this man made him nervous though. “There was no duel between brothers,” the man began. “That was the cover story,” Isaac would’ve been bored if not for the aggression in the room keeping him tense. “The real one involves an encounter in the woods with a vicious animal.” Ah. Werewolf stuff. Isaac followed the man closely with out of the corner of his eye as he began to walk almost at ease around the table. Isaac did not like this man approaching him, especially as his claws continued to drag across the table. “It’s bite caused one of the men to turn into something, monstrous.” god, cut it with the history lesson, was he planning something or not? As the man grew closer, Isaac tensed, ready to bring his own claws out. “By his family’s code, the brother of this man killed him with this very gun.” Shit, Isaac thought. This man thought he was an Argent.

Isaac tried awkwardly to defuse the tension, “well, that is certainly better than the version I heard.” He had to get out of here, “I’m gonna trust you guys with the money here and, uh…” he moved to get the case and leave.

The man lunged out and grabbed onto his arm tightly, “personally, I’d like to hear your story,” the man’s voice was cool but dangerous. Isaac did not appreciate the man grabbing onto him. The bodyguard yanked on Isaac’s arm, forcing him to face him and with rage now building inside him Isaac’s eyes flashed yellow and he let out a fanged snarl.

Isaac raised his free arm to slash at the man’s throat but the far larger werewolf simply pinned back that arm as well. Isaac struggled to pull himself free, wanting desperately to fight back, but the man turned him around and released his arms but before he could make another attempt the man’s claws pressed into his throat.

“Now, why don’t we go talk to Mr. Katashi about why the seller of classical weapons sent a werewolf instead of a real man?” The man dragged Isaac forward, nearly nicking his neck enough to draw blood, and pulled him up the stairs with the two guard following behind. Isaac was so mad at himself. Not only was he a terrible liar but apparently he couldn’t even take care of himself against one werewolf.

He could hear Argent talking ahead. They must’ve found Katashi.

“Oh? Did you bring along friends, beta?” The guard continued to mock him. “Let’s see if they stake any value in your life.”  
Wanting to warn them, Isaac shouted ahead in spite of the claws digging into his jugular. “Guys, they have a werewolf too,” Isaac said as they entered the upper floor where Argent had a gun trained on an older man who he assumed was Katashi.

“Lower the gun or the boy dies,” Katashi said coolly and Isaac felt the guard’s hand wrap tighter around his neck, stifling his breathing.  
Argent lowered his gun and instead dropped his own box on the table, “you know me, Katashi.”

Argent slowly pulled aside the wrappings and the man stared down at the shattered mask.

“Starting to remember? It was twenty four years ago,” Argent said harshly.

Katashi said nothing, with a slight nod of the head the guard released him, Isaac took a deep gasping breath and pulled away from the werewolf, shooting him a dirty look as he rejoined the Argents.

“You know what they are, don’t you?” Argent pushed the man further but Katashi simply turned over one of the pieces.

After a moment, a wet, raspy voice came forth, “they’re called oni,” Katashi said softly. “They are demons. And they are unstoppable,” Katashi said unwaveringly.

“Come on, Katashi, you survived them, you know what they are, there has to be something,” Argent’s hands balled into fists at his side and Isaac could hear Allison’s fear through her heartbeat.

“Nothing. At least no man made weapon,” Katashi sounded tired and not at all hopeful. “The oni are a force of nature. You don’t fight a tsunami, you endure it,” he said coldly. He obviously did not know the Argent family well. “And you hope that you’re not destroyed in its path.”

“Then how do we endure it?” Allison spoke up, her voice steady despite her fear.

“One of you already has,” Katashi said and he surprised Isaac by turning to him. Without asking, the old man reached up and turned Isaac’s head, exposing the symbol still stark behind his ear. “This is Japanese kanji for ‘self’, it means he is still himself,” he said. Isaac pulled away from the man’s hand. No shit he’s still himself, was he going to elaborate or keep being as cryptic as possible? “The oni are looking for one who is no longer themselves.” Nope. Staying cryptic.   
“What do you mean no longer themselves?” Argent asked.

“Possessed. By a dark spirit,” Katashi said. Isaac felt more annoyed than scared by these words, he was too busy thinking fondly of the days when their biggest problem was a giant lizard. “There are many spirits. Foxes known as kitsune. There are thirteen kinds of kitsune,” Katashi paced the room, “celestial, wild, ocean, thunder, but there is one, a dark Kitsune. They call it void, or nogitsune.”

“The kumicho,” Argent said, referring to the man possessed who was killed by the oni so long ago.

“That’s right, he was possessed by a nogitsune,” Katashi nodded. “It’s what helped him rise through the ranks of our yakuza family. Nogitsune draws its power from pain and tragedy, strife and chaos.” Great, what else is new?

Katashi paused, staring at the filthy windows behind him. Isaac resisted the urge to make a retort about him wasting time. The man eventually turned back to Mr. Argent and held up his right hand where the little finger was a silver claw.

“Do you know why I’m missing this finger?” He asked.

“Penance.” To Allison and Isaac’s surprise, Argent did know.

“Removing the joints of the little finger weakens your grip on a sword,” Katashi stared at his own hand without resentment. “When the katana is gripped properly, the little finger is the strongest.” Isaac felt nauseated at the idea of someone cutting off a finger.

“Why did they take your finger?” Despite his disgust, he had to ask.

“They didn’t take it,” Katashi was patient. “A yakuza performs the ritual himself and offers it to his superior.”

Isaac did his best not to gag and instead looked to Allison who looked equally disturbed. This crazy old man cut off his own finger.

“It was penance, for a mistake,” the man continued. He turned back to the window as if he could make something out through the dusty and frosted glass. “And it wasn’t my only one. I don’t know what it was about the way I moved or stood, that suggested to them that I was going to take them on, because actually I was… preparing to run for my life.”

Isaac couldn’t blame him, but he also couldn’t figure out this man’s grand mistake. The man stared back at Argent with a strange turmoil behind his eyes.

“That shot you fired,” he told Argent, “saved me from looking like a coward before the survivors. For that humiliation I wouldn’t have to have given up my finger, I would have had to give up my head.”

Guess a finger was a small price next to that.

Katashi rewrapped the shattered mask and Argent stood. It was time for them to leave. 

“I wish I could give you the answers you need, Mr. Argent. I owe you more than my life. I owe you my honor,” the words seemed to pain Katashi. “I will tell you one thing, however. If there is a nogitsune among you, let the oni destroy it.” The man glanced to Allison. “Even if it is your own daughter.”

Isaac bristled at that but held his tongue. Allison was not possessed. The old man just had too much interest in theatrics. Isaac left, following close to Allison so his shoulder was just behind hers and glowered at the bodyguard who seemed entirely disinterested in him now.

“That was entirely useless,” Isaac muttered ruefully as they returned to the car, pulling his tie loose around his neck.

“Not entirely, we know they won’t kill Scott,” Allison said firmly.

“And we have no way of stopping them from killing someone else,” Isaac pointed out bitterly.

“I trust Katashi’s intel, they’re only targeting the possessed,” Argent said. “We need to go home. Recoup and figure out the dangers that come with whoever this nogitsune is.”

“Hey,” Allison linked her arm with his, her head leaning against his shoulder and Isaac found some of his gloominess faded. “You did good in there.”

“Did I?” Isaac’s resentment returned immediately. “Got caught in like ten minutes. God, that bodyguard guy was a dick.”

“Yeah, well. He was a big werewolf, don’t feel bad that you couldn’t take him down on your own, tough guy,” she teased him as they returned to the Argent apartment.

“Yeah, just don’t put me in a suit again,” Isaac grumbled.

“Aw, but you look so handsome,” she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“So, uh, no more danger, right?” Isaac started, feeling sheepish. “Well, no immediate danger.”

“Yeah…?” Allison stared at him.

“Would you… do you want to go do something?” Isaac forced the words out, his voice higher than usual.

“What? Like a date?” She was grinning.

“Yeah, I guess, like a date,” he mumbled.

“Sure. Do you want to change? Or are you going out like that?” Allison said.

“I’m changing, but we need to go back to your place anyways, right? To get your car?” Isaac felt awkward. Wasn’t the guy supposed to drive the girl around?

“Yes. More importantly, we have to convince my dad. I wouldn’t tell him it’s a date if I were you,” Allison whispered as her father waited impatiently for them to get in the car.

“Great.”


	31. Chapter 31

“Scott knows everything we know, my dad doesn’t need me anymore, and he promised not to shoot you,” Allison listed them off as Isaac put on sneakers which he must preferred to Argent’s black dress shoes.

“Tonight, I promised not to shoot him tonight,” Argent clarified from the next room. “And only if you’re home by eleven.”

“Yes, dad,” Allison rolled her eyes before putting herself arm in arm with Isaac, a little skip in her step as they headed for the elevator.

“Okay, since you’re the one driving you have to make sure you’re home by eleven, okay? I’m the one getting shot if we don’t,” Isaac said pointedly.

“Come on, he isn’t being serious,” Allison laughed. Isaac gave her a look. “Okay, he probably isn’t being serious.”

“You’re risking my life, you know that Al?” He teased back.

“Come on, might as well make the most of it before dear old dad shows up with a rifle,” she pulled him to the car.

“I made a reservation when you were talking to Scott,” Isaac said, climbing into the front seat.

“How fancy, you know how to treat a girl right,” Allison said.

“Hardly, it’s Ricci’s. Sorry we’re not going to another fancy french place,” Isaac said.

“Italian sounds perfect, Isaac,” Allison noted his self doubt.

“If you’re sure, we could always go somewhere else,” Isaac said quickly.

“Don’t waste time worrying, it’s already nine and we’re supposed to be having fun, you’re acting like you’ve never been on a date before,” Allison laughed.  
Isaac said nothing.

“Isaac?” Allison now sounded genuinely worried. Isaac didn’t know what to say. “Oh my god, have you never been on a date before?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Isaac muttered, sinking down in his seat.

“No, don’t feel bad! I didn’t know!” Allison seemed genuine. “Actually, I think it’s really sweet.”

“God, now I feel pathetic,” Isaac complained.

“Hey! I’m being nice to you!” Allison scolded him lightly.

“Yeah, because you pity me,” Isaac teased back.

“You can shut up now,” Allison took one hand off the wheel to lightly shove him.

“Is that how you treat your date?” Isaac pretended to pout.

“‘My’ date?” Allison said. “You’re the one who asked me!”

“What sort of old fashioned idea is that, Allison? We’re each other’s date. And we’ll be splitting the check like modern civilized people,” Isaac said with a false sort of pompousness that almost sounded Lydia-ish.

“You cheapskate,” Allison laughed back.

“Your date is tragically unemployed,” he pointed out.

“So you’re not pitching in for gas, then?” Allison asked sarcastically.

“Nope. You’re carting me around out of the kindness of your heart,” Isaac quipped.

“Well, get out, then,” Allison said as they parked. “You’re walking the rest of the way.”

“Madame,” Isaac said dryly in his best worst french accent as he held the door open.

“Pourquoi, merci bon monsieur,” she replied, completely throwing him off.

“You showing me up?” He said as they entered the restaurant. “What’re we doing anyways? This is an italian restaurant, do we not know any italian?”

“Well I don’t,” Allison said.

“Hi, I have a reservation for Lahey?” Isaac said, feeling Allison wrap her arm with his.

The restaurant was currently full of families with young children and at a long table in the front, a baseball team. It was not the quiet or romantic ambiance they dreamed of.

“I feel like we should’ve gone here the other night and I should’ve taken you to that french place,” Isaac muttered as they settled into a booth.

“You talk about what you should do a lot,” Allison said pointedly. “I think it’s nice.”

“You’re very understanding,” Isaac said quietly, fiddling with his silverware.

“But I wasn’t always, was I?” Allison said.

The tension was cut off by them ordering drinks. Allison’s feet brushed against his under the table.

Isaac stared at the glass of water in front of him a little wistfully. “I’m never going to be able to be drunk,” he sighed, “I was really looking forward to that.”

“There’s a history of alcoholism on my mother’s side, so I got the ‘don’t drink’ lecture on a medical level,” Allison said.

“Funny, it wasn’t really stressed that much in my house,” Isaac said sarcastically.

“Mother dearest also stressed avoiding carbs but god, werewolf or not you can still eat pasta,” Allison looked like she was about to fall into the menu.

“Okay now I believe you. Italian was the right choice,” Isaac laughed.

“Just so you know I would definitely stab you again for some fettuccine alfredo right now,” Allison said with the utmost seriousness.

“Too soon,” Isaac said.

“What, still upset?” Allison said, now only half joking.

“Too soon to stab me. We haven’t even ordered yet,” Isaac teased.

“God, you’re so right, I’ll wait until dessert,” Allison replied.

Isaac laughed, saved from making a witty reply by their waitress taking their order. Allison with her fettuccine and Isaac with bruschetta.

After this Allison did not offer a topic of conversation and Isaac was left unsure of what to say. Isaac wasn’t used to just hanging out with Allison, with anyone really, without something forcing them together. Generally supernatural danger. Isaac really didn’t know how to do this. Rather than trying to talk to Allison he receded deeper into his own head. When he was little he had friends. He’d talk about comics and they’d find something to do. After mom died it got harder but he still had friends, at least at school. He only lost them when Camden left, when his dad started to hover over him and only him.

Derek wasn’t the type to just hang out, but Erica and Boyd, they’d been friends, hadn’t they? Not just packmates? They’d roughhoused and stolen cigarettes and intimidated everyone who’d hurt them before. When they weren’t attempting to meet Derek’s expectations due to the oncoming threat to their pack. Now, Scott made him come along with them, but that was easier. He wasn’t obligated to talk and he did not get butterflies when he was, say, belittling Stiles.

“Earth to Isaac,” Allison waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hm? Sorry, got distracted,” he muttered.

“You sure did, you’ve been staring at that old couple for like five minutes,” Allison said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Isaac shook himself.

“Isaac,” Allison reached across the table and held onto his hand. “You just died on me, what were you thinking about?”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” Isaac said quickly, “not really. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“You mean… go on dates? It’s your first date, Isaac, don’t stress about it,” Allison laughed. “You’re adorable worrying about this stuff, you know that?”

Isaac’s pale cheeks flushed red, “yeah, well, dates and everything else.”

“You worry too much.”

“What do normal people talk about? What do normal people do?” Isaac said.

“This. You don’t always need to have something clever to say or some dangerous plan to figure out,” Allison insisted.

“Making me feel better must get a little tiring,” Isaac said.

“At least we aren’t like them,” Allison laughed and nodded at a table where a young couple were attempting to argue quietly despite them already attracting several dirty looks from other customers.

“Not yet,” Isaac said playfully. “Let’s see how our second date goes.”

“So there will be a second date, Mr. Lahey?” Allison smirked.

“I mean, only if you’d want to,” Isaac said quickly, now regretting his words.

“Yeah,” Allison said with that little smile that made Isaac’s heart beat faster. “I could go on a second date.”

Isaac opened his mouth but for some reason a clever reply wouldn’t emerge. He held back a ridiculous grin and looked away, instead observing the other patrons.

“Uh oh, looks like the misses isn’t happy,” Isaac tried to draw away from his own fluster by returning to the arguing couple. The woman, who looked painfully red in the face, was pointing across the table aggressively.

“Hm. You’d think they would’ve taken this outside by now,” Allison said with mild interest.

“My bets are on the chick. She looks like she’s about to tear his throat out,” Isaac said.

“God, my mom would get so pissy at people fighting in public, as if she isn’t completely passive aggressive herself,” Allison’s smile turned into a small frown. “Was. Was passive aggressive herself.”

“And you just find it entertaining,” Isaac pushed forward from the gloom for a change.

“I’ve always broken the family mold,” Allison said with false aloofness.

“Oh yeah, dating werewolves is hardly rebellion compared to this,” he teased back. Even if he wasn’t sure how to start a normal conversation, there was always their sarcastic banter. He could always keep up with her.

“I think my dad still wishes he’d killed Scott before our first date, the fact that he hasn’t called me yet on this one is a miracle,” Allison laughed.

“Well, we’ve got that to look forward to then,” Isaac sighed. “Your dad won’t like me until I’m dead.”

“Yeah, unless I die first, then he’ll bring you back to kill you again,” Allison said.

“God, I hope not. I’d have him put me out of my misery myself,” Isaac said.

The waitress blinked quizzically as she put down their plates.

“Thank you,” Allison said, apparently oblivious to the woman’s concern.

They were quiet for a time, somewhat ravenous after a day of mysterious plots and dramatics. As their minds and bodies rested words returned to them.

“Do you think eventually it’ll be like this all the time?” Isaac said. “Normal? Happy? Not just for a few hours out of the day?”

“Yeah. I do,” Allison said with the utmost certainty.

“You sound like Scott,” Isaac said.

“If he doesn’t have the right idea, who does? Maybe you’ve spent too much time with Derek,” Allison said. “If we don’t expect this, what’s the point? I’m not going to bother with throwing everything we’ve got at some chance. No, we’re going to get there, Isaac. You’ll still be werewolves and I’ll still be an Argent, but we’ll be like this too, you know?”

Isaac looked at her face, memorizing every detail, this strange contentment possessing and softening his own expression. “When it comes from you, I think I almost believe it.”

Allison pulled up to the McCall house at a quarter till eleven.

“See you later, then,” Isaac said.

“Hey, let me walk you to your door,” Allison got out with him, holding onto his hand as he rounded the car and headed to the front porch.

“Such a gentleman,” Isaac said, grateful that the darkness prevented her from seeing his blush.

“I had fun tonight, Ise,” Allison held onto both of his hands, looking up at him with a tilted head.

“Me too,” was all Isaac could manage when she called him ‘Ise’.

“Good night,” Allison stood on her tiptoes, gently pressing her lips into his, Isaac’s hands curled around her waist as he melted into the kiss.

Allison pulled back after a long time, opening her mouth to say something before closing it again with a bit of a giggle. She turned and hurried off the porch.

“Good night, love you,” Isaac called after her. He hummed quietly to himself as he unlocked the front door with unusually shaky hands, so deep in his own head that he didn’t notice the shattered front window or Scott sleeping on the couch.

Isaac shut the door behind him and headed towards the stairs with a skip in his step.

Before stopping.

‘Good night, love you.’

“Fuck,” Isaac said loudly.

“Wha? Isaac?” Scott shot up from the couch, making Isaac jump.

“Scott, what’re you doing down here?!” Isaac clutched his chest like he’d been given a heart attack.

“Me, what’re you doing home so late and cursing for?!” Scott said incredulously.

“I-” Isaac felt awkward explaining and instead stared at the shattered front window covered in taped up tarps. “What did you get up to?”

“Uh, shadow men, twins jumped through the window,” Scott tried to wake up. “Kira and I aren’t possessed,” Scott pushed back his ear to show him the symbol now branded onto his skin.

“Good to know…?” Isaac said, blinking slightly. “How’s your mom dealing with her house being destroyed?”

“She’s more worried about my dad,” Scott said sheepishly. “Idiot wouldn’t leave, got stabbed.”

“Shit, are you okay?” Isaac joined Scott on the couch.

“Yeah, he’s stable. I went with mom to take him to the hospital and grab Stiles,” Scott explained.

“Wait, what happened to Stiles?” Isaac rubbed his temples as his elation turned to annoyance.

“Nothing,” Scott said quickly. “He just hasn’t been sleeping lately so, well, my mom knocked him out.”

“So, no one’s dead?” Isaac said.

“Not yet,” Scott shrugged. “What were you doing out so late.”

“I, uh,” Isaac now wasn’t sure what to say, feeling painfully awkward from his date with Allison. God, why did he say ‘love you’? “I was hanging out with Allison.”

“Really?” Scott perked up, turning on a lamp and looking somewhat excited now. “I was with Kira all night!”

“Yeah?” Isaac said slowly.

“I guess mine wasn’t really a date but it felt like a date, you know?” Scott said.

Isaac realized that this implied that him ‘hanging out’ with Allison was a date. And that Scott was okay with it.

“Yeah, well, mine was, I think. We went out and got food,” Isaac said.

“God, I’m so glad I can talk to you about this stuff,” Scott said. “Stiles tries but he gets a little hurt after a while because, well, Lydia.”

“So… are you and Kira…?”

“Dating? I think so. We were up in my room and we were sitting really close and I think we sort of had a moment, but we haven’t kissed yet or anything,” Scott said. “What about you and Allison? You’re dating now, right?”

“We’ll see,” Isaac said a little nervously. Depending on if she gets freaked out by me fucking saying ‘love you’ on our first date, Isaac thought to himself.

“K-Kira is okay with the whole werewolf thing too,” Scott said with a yawn.

“Do you want to maybe sleep in your actual bed?” Isaac said.

Scott nodded sleepily before getting up, “good night, Ise,” he said before going up to his own room.

Isaac flopped down onto his own bed which smelled of the McCall’s detergent and grinned into his pillow. Danger was still lurking, but he had someone to love and a family.

God, he loved Allison Argent and Scott McCall.


	32. Chapter 32

Isaac was feeling better than he had in a long time. Well, as better as he could with all this shit going on.

“I don’t really know what to say. The nightmares are still there, but they seem easier now,” Isaac shrugged.

“That’s wonderful, Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher said. “Do you still want to continue your therapy for claustrophobia?”

“I… I don’t know,” Isaac said. He hated those sessions. The spaces getting smaller and the panic seemingly staying the same.

“Isaac, a few good days shouldn’t stop you from trying to feel better,” Dr. Gallagher said pointedly.

“That’s the thing, they don’t make me feel better! I just push myself, almost to the point of a panic attack, and then I feel ‘better’ because it’s over!”

“Do you feel claustrophobic right now, Isaac?”

“What? No,” Isaac said, puzzled.

“Look at where you are, in a tiny office with the door closed and you feel fine,” Dr. Gallagher pointed out. “That’s progress. I know it’s hard, but it is.”

“Yeah. Fine,” Isaac sighed.

“I won’t make you do this, it’s your choice, but I think you are getting better,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“I’ll do it. I don’t want to, but I will. I know I should,” Isaac sighed.

“Alright. Last time you were alone in the closet,” Dr. Gallagher stood.

“Yeah, and that went so well,” Isaac muttered.

“You dealt with it, Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher pushed. “This time, I want to lock you in and I want you to try and keep the lights off.”

“Lock me in?” Isaac said harshly.

“If you want to be let out, you only have to say so. You’ll be locked in, but you’ll be in full control, Isaac. I would never actually trap you,” Dr. Gallagher said. “Are you okay with this, Isaac? Everything here is your choice.”

“I can do it,” Isaac said firmly. He actually wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t good at admitting fear or uncertainty.

“Okay, all you have to do is say ‘I want out’ and we’ll unlock the door, okay Isaac?” Dr. Gallagher spoke gently as if to calm a startled animal.

“Okay,” Isaac said through gritted teeth. He hated the fact that he seemed weak right now.

“Last time, you managed not to turn, which I think our staff much appreciated,” Dr Gallagher returned to the supply closet which, at their previous session, Isaac had spent a half hour in. The light had been on and the door unlocked so after the initial hysteria he simply sat in the middle of the room and took slow deep breaths before wasting time on his phone.

“Systematic desensitization takes time, but we’re making progress. When I first met you, you never would have agreed to this. But Isaac, there is no shame in stopping before things get bad. I know you’re a tough guy but all you have to say is ‘I want out’, okay?” Dr. Gallagher said, noting his trepidation. “And you already know what anchoring is, yes? You’ve talked about it with Scott?”

“Yeah,” Isaac frowned. He didn’t realize him turning was that much of a threat, he thought he had a good handle on it now.

“Okay. If it gets too much but you don’t want to quit, practice your anchoring,” she told him.

What, think of his dad? Although he supposed now his dad when he was little wasn’t really his anchor anymore. So what, he just needed to think of Allison? Of Scott?

“I’m setting a timer for thirty minutes. You know where the light switch is, but I think practicing in the dark would be helpful. It’ll be harder to visualize the space,” Dr. Gallagher waited for him to enter the closet, which he did with much hesitance. Isaac turned to face the doorway as the crack of light thinned. “I’m locking the door now, Isaac. But you’re still in full control. Ask and I will unlock it immediately,” her muffled voice came through to him.

Isaac did not respond and instead focused on the panic already setting in. The sound of the lock clicking seemed to ring in his ears and even with his enhanced vision the room was terribly dark. He reached for the walls with trembling hands, flinching as he realized they were much closer than he thought.

“You’re okay, you’re fine,” Isaac whispered into the darkened room. These words did not stop his breath from accelerating and for his body to go uncontrollably numb with pins and needles.

Isaac stumbled back, hoping to put distance between himself and the walls and instead clattered into the back shelf, sliding down it to the floor with a thud.

“Isaac? Are you alright?” Dr. Gallagher responded to the noise.

“Fine! I’m fine,” Isaac heard himself reply with a surprisingly steady tone.

Isaac felt himself desperately taking gulps of air like there wasn’t enough available to sate his rattled lungs. His human nails clawed at the tile beneath him and for a moment he left his body and returned to one inside of a freezer, scratching till he bled.

Anchor, Isaac.

For a moment he wildly thought of his dad which rather than soothing him caused him to bury his face in his hands to stifle a whimper. He couldn’t collapse now, he’d hardly started. It was the darkness, maybe. Or just the fact that he knew that turning that door handle would do nothing - despite him simply needing to ask for it to be unlocked - he found himself curled inward, attempting to slow his breathing.

He also found himself feeling both guilty and deeply ashamed.

Isaac struggled to pinpoint why while also attempting to push away a panic attack. Was it because he felt like he was failing? Perhaps. More likely it was the haunting feeling of so many times where he was told that the freezer was a response to failure. The freezer meant he had fucked up in some way.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac mumbled to no one in particular.

He had to think of Allison. To think of Scott. When he did all that came to mind was Scott slamming him into a wall and Allison stabbing him in the chest. Everything in his head was skewed. After all the fear of the past days finding his anchor felt impossible.

“Think of them properly, Isaac,” he hissed at himself, pulling on his light brown locks.

Allison. That gentle, mischievous smile she got. Her reaching across the table to hold his hand. Scott. Eating dinner with him and Melissa. Him holding onto him late at night after a nightmare.

Isaac still trembled, but his breathing had slowed to normal. He didn’t think he could do this. Isaac felt a sob rise up in his throat and he bit down on his knuckles to hold it back. How was he supposed to hold onto those moments, those people, when he was so damaged?

“Fuck,” Isaac’s voice broke as he, almost instinctively, punched the metal shelves in front of him.

“Isaac?” Dr. Gallagher sounded worried.

“I’m fine!” Isaac’s voice, shaky and broken, gave him away.

“I’m opening the door.”

The sliver of light expanded, revealing Isaac, curled fetally, in the corner of the closet.

“Isaac!” Dr. Gallagher, her professionalism wavering, rushed forward onto her knees, pulling Isaac’s hands - one with bloodied knuckles - away from his face. “Breathe with me, Isaac. You’re alright.”

After several minutes of slowly and shudderingly mimicking the doctor’s slow breathing Isaac could speak.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-”

“Isaac, it’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. Can you stand up for me?” She held onto his hands and pulled him to his feet, guiding him like a blind man back into the hallway. “Why didn’t you say something, Isaac?” There was nothing accusatory in her tone, only a soft concern.

“I…” Isaac still felt ashamed, but for not telling her rather than failing. “I didn’t want to give up,” he all but whispered.

“Isaac, this type of therapy is supposed to be very slow. You won’t be ready for this kind of step for a long time. I’m sorry. I should’ve realized that you weren’t,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“You trying to make me feel more pathetic?” Isaac muttered.

“No. The opposite, really. You were very brave,” Dr. Gallagher said. “But your stubbornness almost got you hurt,” while still kind, she pointed out a fact he hadn’t wanted to face.

“I know, I just thought… I thought I should be able to handle this,” Isaac sighed.

“One day you will, but you’re expecting to be Shakespeare when you’re just learning how to write. There’s no shame in being exactly where you should be,” she said, allowing him to just lean against the wall and try and pull himself together.

“I was never good at writing,” he uttered.

“Isaac, did you really think you were ready for that, or were you forcing yourself to go too far?” As always, his therapist went right for the jugular when it came to questions he didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t know,” Isaac said and he wasn’t sure if he was lying or not.

Dr. Gallagher paused for a moment before deciding not to push it. “Are you okay to finish the session and talk about things or would you like to go home?” She asked.

“No. I can finish,” Isaac said quickly. She looked doubtful. “I mean it. I’m not just trying to tough it out or anything.”

“Good. I’d like to talk to you about your process. What you did to cope instead of asking for help,” Dr. Gallagher said and Isaac realized she was actually teasing him to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, uh, I tried anchoring like you said, but it didn’t really work,” Isaac said sheepishly as they returned to her office.

“How long have you practiced anchoring?” She asked as they settled back in the office. The well lit, comfortable space soothed Isaac after the darkened closet.

“Ever since my first full moon. I thought of my dad from before, when he was good,” Isaac said, feeling strangely worn out as if he’d just run a marathon.

“You… you thought of your dad?” Dr. Gallagher said carefully. “But you had never practiced control before? Your dad was passed before this?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said. “It was just the happy memories that calmed me, I guess.”

“What did you link it to?” She asked.

“What did I link it to?” He repeated back.

“Yes. What was your physical link? Making a fist or pinching a knuckle or…?” She asked again.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Isaac frowned.

Dr. Gallagher bit her lip, “how were you taught to anchor, Isaac?”

“Derek said we needed something to ground us in our humanity. For him it was anger and for Scott it was Allison and now it’s himself, his identity, I guess. For me it was memories of how my dad used to be,” Isaac explained.

“And when you found this thing, emotion or idea or person, then what?” She asked.

“You just focused on it,” Isaac shrugged.

“Okay. I fear I might’ve misunderstood,” she said slowly. “When you said that you practiced anchoring I assumed it was the same definition as it is in psychology, and it is similar, but there’s a system to it that I think you’ll find more effective.”

“Sorry,” Isaac muttered, feeling strangely embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry, it was my bad for assuming,” she said soothingly. “When it comes to coping with triggers or active phobias, you initiate an anchor. Instead of drawing on an important memory just in a moment, you practice and almost trick your physical self. Our brain automatically links up patterns. It’s part of its design. To put it simply, whenever you are in a moment of happiness, you perform a unique physical action, like gently pinching a particular spot or making a tight fist,” she explained. “If you practice this consistently, during a time of panic by repeating this action your brain will begin mimicking the positive behaviors it associates with the good trigger. Do you understand what I mean?”

“That’s a little different from werewolf anchoring. Much more scientific,” Isaac said. “So, it takes some time?”

“For your brain to map the right association, yes. But if I remember correctly it is reported to be 75% effective when it comes to dealing with a phobia.”

“I can bet on 75%,” Isaac nodded slowly.

“Why don’t you pick a trigger? Maybe making a fist with your left hand?” She offered.

“Nah, I already do that when I’m pissed off to stop my claws,” Isaac said. He pinched the freckle that stood out on his left arm experimentally.

“Now, make sure you don’t hurt yourself. You could just poke your arm if you wanted,” Dr. Gallagher said.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Isaac said.

“Well, that’s your homework for the next session. Whenever you’re happy or relaxed, pinch your arm. Try and make a habit of doing it in the same spot. Your body will remember,” she turned around and opened a drawer in her desk. She pulled out an article. “Here’s an article with more detailed instructions.”

“Homework,” Isaac muttered.

“At least it’s not math,” she gave him a small smile.

Isaac’s phone buzzed in his pocket, “Scott’s here.” He stood to leave.

“See you next week, Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher walked him out.

“Thanks, Doc.”

“How’d it go?” Scott was in the parking lot, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I have homework,” Isaac grumbled.

“Tough luck,” Scott laughed. “Come on. We gotta take food to my mom.”

Isaac climbed on the back of the bike, a familiar contentment taking over as his hands wrapped around Scott’s waist and they roared down the road.

Isaac pinched his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the article I found on anchoring, if anyone's interested! It's used for lots of phobias and anxiety and depression!   
> http://www.changethatsrightnow.com/claustrophobia/how-to-overcome/


	33. Chapter 33

“Isaac! Isaac! Get up!” Scott screamed for him in the middle of the night with a terrifying desperation. “I need your help! Isaac!”

Heart immediately racing, Isaac clambered out of bed and ran into the hall, stumbling to turn on the light and all but falling into Scott’s room. “Why what’s wrong?” Isaac said blearily.

Scott was already pulling on his coat, bike helmet in hand, “it’s Stiles, get dressed,” he tossed him the helmet before hopping around to pull on shoes.

“What’s wrong with Stiles?” Isaac said, brow furrowed in worry.

Scott paused for a moment, trembling and clinging to the edge of his dresser like he would collapse without it, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Isaac said.

“I don’t know where he is and he’s freaking out, please just get dressed, I’ll try and explain on the way,” Scott urged.

“Okay, Scott, on the way where?” Isaac spoke slowly.

“I don’t know, just please, hurry,” Scott said desperately.

Isaac nodded before running back to his own room, pulling on jeans and a jacket.

As they raced down the stairs in the empty house - Ms. McCall at the hospital with her ex husband - Scott’s phone rang and he answered it with panicked fumbling fingers.

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott said, Isaac leaned in to listen.

“Did you call him?” Stiles, his voice hushed and more afraid than Isaac had ever heard it, whispered in reply through the receiver. “Did you call my dad?”

“No. Just Isaac. We’re coming to find you,” Scott said. Why couldn’t the sheriff know? “Can you figure out where you are? Try to find something and tell us where to look.”

Stiles’s voice, now choked with sobs replied, “it’s a basement. I think… I think I’m in some kind of basement.” Isaac’s stomach churned. Stiles. Trapped and hysterical in a basement. Ah, memories.

“In a house?” Scott asked.

“No, it looks bigger, like industrial,” Stiles said. Isaac’s mind raced through a list of Beacon Hills buildings. “I think there’s a furnace, but it’s cold. It’s freezing down here. I gotta-I gotta turn the phone off. It’s going to die.”

“Wait, wait wait,” Scott said urgently, “what else is there? What do you see?”

“The phone’s dying,” Stiles’ cracked and weeping voice mumbled back a little incoherently. “I can’t talk. I have to go,” he whispered. “Please…”

“Stiles, why are you whispering?” Scott asked and Isaac’s blood ran cold because they both knew the answer.

After a shuddering breath, Stiles replied, “because I think there’s someone in here with me.”

“Stiles-” The line went dead.

“Come on,” Scott said, running for the door. “We go to his house, track his scent from there.”

“Scott, why aren’t we telling the Sheriff?” Isaac insisted.

“Because Stiles made me promise not to,” Scott said.

“Stiles isn’t exactly in a stable frame of mind-”

“I trust him, Isaac. If he needs his dad to stay out of it, he’s going to stay out of it,” Scott said firmly. “Are you coming, or not?” He revved the bike engine impatiently.

“Of course I’m coming, who else do I have to bicker with without Stiles?” Isaac muttered before climbing on the back of the bike.

Scott skidded to a halt outside Stiles’ house, not even bothering to park the bike and let it fall to the ground, instead he ran up to the front door, fumbling underneath a bush for the spare key.

“His Dad’s car isn’t here,” Scott mumbled with shaking hands. “Front door is unlocked already.”

Isaac did everything he could to keep up as Scott raced upstairs to Stiles’ room. They both stopped sharply.

Lydia and Aiden had beaten them there.

“How did you know? Did he call you too?” Scott asked.

“I heard it,” Lydia said tautly.

“Don’t ask,” Aiden added. “It gets more confusing when you ask.”

Ah. Banshee stuff, “okay,” Isaac all but whispered as Scott and Lydia radiated dangerously anxious energy.

“Not as confusing as this,” Lydia sighed.

Isaac turned to the rest of the room which had a terrifying depiction of true insanity covering the bed. Red thread came from the walls, all tied together to a pair of silver scissors plunged into the mattress. Pictures overlayed one another on the wall over his bed. Stiles needed to stop watching detective shows.

“He uses red for unsolved cases,” Lydia explained, as if that actually explained anything.

“Maybe he thinks he’s part of an unsolved case,” Aiden tried.

“Or is an unsolved case,” Isaac said dryly, taking in the rest of the chaotic walls.

“Hold on,” Lydia whirled to face them again, “is he still out there? You don’t know where he is?” She said forcefully.

“He said he was in an industrial basement somewhere,” Scott said as if that answered anything. God, they were pulling at strings, and apparently so was Stiles.

“We came here to get a better scent,” Isaac added gloomily.

“What else did he say?” Lydia asked, a far away look in her eyes.

“Something’s wrong with his leg, it’s bleeding,” Scott said shakily. Isaac stared at him with wide eyes. They were on a clock then. Great.

“And he’s freezing,” Isaac added grimly.

“Tonight’s the coldest night of the year,” Aiden said with exasperation. “It’s going to drop into the 20s.”

“What did his dad say?” Lydia asked quietly.

“We kind of… we didn’t tell him yet,” Scott had the common decency to look ashamed.

“Stiles is bleeding and freezing and you didn’t call his dad?” Lydia said sharply, somehow the most frightening figure in a room full of werewolves.

“He made me promise not to,” Scott said quietly. “We can find him by scent. If he was sleepwalking, he couldn’t have gotten far, right?” He continued with more desperation than hope.

“You didn’t notice his jeep is gone, did you?” Aiden said. Shit.

Lydia pulled out her phone, already dialing, “you promised you wouldn’t call his dad. I didn’t.”

“Wait, Lydia, hold on. I can get more help,” Scott pushed. “I can call Derek, Allison…” Isaac didn’t understand Scott’s willingness to keep a promise at the risk of a life.

“Everyone except for the cops, great idea!” Lydia snapped at him.

“You guys remember she gets these feelings when someone's about to die, right?” Aiden said forcefully. When did he become such a hero?

Isaac stared at Scott. He was the alpha and Stiles’ best friend. It was his call.

“You don’t have to call his dad,” Scott insisted. “It’s five minutes to the station.”

“We’ll catch up,” Lydia reached out to stop Aiden as they headed for the door.

“What, why?” Scott asked.

“There is something here,” Lydia said forcefully.

“Yeah,” Isaac said sarcastically. “Evidence of total insanity,” he glanced around the room once more, his shoulders hunched.

“We can figure out what’s wrong with him after we find a way to keep him from freezing to death,” Scott pointed out.

“Go,” Lydia insisted. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Scott said nothing as they returned to the bike.

“Scott-” Isaac started.

“Call Allison. I’ll call Derek,” Scott cut him off.

Isaac nodded slowly, pulling out his phone. It was late and went to voicemail, “Al, Stiles is missing. Scott and I are out looking for him. Call me when you can.”

Scott hadn’t gotten through either and his hands now pressed into his eyes.

“Scott, are you okay?”

“No time to talk. We have to get to the station,” Scott said. Isaac did not comment as Scott wiped his eyes. “Get on.”

“We’ll find him,” Isaac said softly as they sped towards the sheriff.

Scott parked out front of the deserted building, not waiting for Isaac as he made a beeline for the sheriff’s office.

“Hey, you can’t go back there!-” The receptionist yelled after him.

“We need to talk to the sheriff. It’s about his son,” Isaac said hastily before following his housemate.

“Scott, what’re you doing here?” The sheriff stopped in his tracks.

Scott took a deep shuddering breath, careful to keep his composure. “It’s Stiles.”

“What has he gotten into now?” The sheriff said carefully.

“I don’t know. I don’t know where he is, Mr. Stilinski. He’s hurt and he’s alone. He wasn’t at your house and he doesn’t know where he is,” Scott rambled shakily.

“Is he sleepwalking again?” The sheriff paled.

“His jeep is gone,” Isaac added.

“God, if he’s outside somewhere he’ll freeze,” the sheriff ran his hands through his sparse hair. “What do you mean he’s hurt, Scott?”

“His leg. He called me and said there was something wrong with his leg. He can’t move and he’s hurt,” Scott said, his voice trembling.

“He called you? You'll need to give a transcript to an officer."

“Yeah, fine, but he doesn’t know where he is and his phone is dying. He said, he said it was a basement. Industrial, not in a house,” Scott said.

The sheriff took a deep shuddering breath, his hands gripping the deputy’s desk, “come on,” he muttered, pulling himself together. He turned back to Scott. “If his jeep is gone that’s where we start. Parrish, let’s get an APB out on a blue 80 CJ-5 Jeep,” he was all business. Doing what he did best. “Cordova,” he called to another officer, “I want a list of any kind of industrial basement or sub-level of any building that he could’ve gotten into while sleepwalking.” The sheriff’s voice strengthened despite his fear. “It is the coldest night of the year so far, so if he’s out there barefoot in just a t-shirt he could already be hypothermic. Let’s move fast, let’s think fast.” He turned to the two boys, “the two of you, come with me.”

The sheriff closed them in his office, “okay, is there anything you need to tell me that I can’t tell anyone out there?” He asked pointedly.

“Lydia knew he was missing,” Scott told him.

“Can she help find him?” The sheriff asked.

“Well, she’s working on it,” Isaac said.

“Anything else?” The sheriff pushed.

“I called Derek and Allison for help,” Scott said.

“Can you find him by scent?” Stilinski said in hushed tones as his officers raced around the station behind them.

Two quick wraps on the door and the deputy poked his head in, “we got it sir. We found the Jeep.”

“Spit it out, son,” Stilinski said impatiently.

“It’s outside the hospital.”

“Is he there? Are they taking care of his leg?” Scott asked.

“They’ve only seen the Jeep,” Deputy Parrish said.

The sheriff didn’t seem to be listening, he pushed past them and ran for his squad car.

“Come on,” Scott pulled Isaac along back to the bike.

They were doing a lot of running today.

The three am silence that permeated the streets was shattered by sirens and the roar of Scott’s bike. They stopped in the middle of the Beacon Memorial Hospital parking lot and the sheriff and Scott seemed to race each other towards the beaten up blue jeep.

Isaac followed much more slowly. He jumped, his phone ringing.

“Derek?”

“You and Scott need to come up to the roof. You won’t find him by the car.”

“How did you-” Derek hung up.

Scott, looking distraught, returned to him as the sheriff entered the hospital. “He isn’t there and the battery’s dead and I don’t know how we’re gonna find him. Are we really going to track his scent across town?”

“Scott, breathe. Derek is on the roof. He sounds like he’s got a lead,” Isaac held onto Scott’s arm, trying to ground him. Isaac actually found himself feeling scared too. Not just for Scott, but because he was worried about Stiles. They had to find that idiot.

Scott didn’t even bother to respond, half running for the hospital.

“Scott-” Melissa called after him but he was already in the stairwell.

“I’ll help him. We’ll get him, Ms. McCall,” Isaac stopped to utter rushed words of reassurance before running after her anxious son.

As they neared the top of the stairs, the scent of Stiles came down to them and Scott took off running. Isaac barely caught up as Scott stumbled to a halt on the rooftop. Derek’s dark silhouette stood alone near the edge.

“He’s not here. Not anymore,” Derek called back to them.

“You mean the whole building?” Scott asked, desperation and hopelessness entering his voice.

“Gone,” Derek said simply.

“I’ll go tell Stilinski,” Isaac said, unable to stop glaring at Derek. Calling them all the way up here to tell them that Stiles wasn’t there. Bullshit as always.

“And see if you can find Allison,” Scott turned back to Isaac. “She’s not answering her phone.”

Isaac gave him a curt nod before running off back into the hospital. It was going to be a long night.

“Sheriff!” Isaac skidded to a halt by the front door.

“Isaac, did you find him?” Stilinski asked.

“He isn’t here. Derek, he searched the whole hospital,” Isaac said.

“Derek Hale?”

“He isn’t here. I… I gotta go,” Isaac kept running again. He had to find Allison. Somehow Isaac was convinced. Find Allison, find Stiles.

Isaac was grateful for the fact that the hospital was downtown. He would not be walking until dawn. The streets even here were black and empty as Isaac set off at a quick pace, texting Allison as he walked. Why wouldn’t she pick up?! Even as he feared for Stiles he now worried something terrible had happened to Allison. Isaac rattled the door to her apartment building, knowing that no one would be awake to buzz him in. He would have to climb. Pure frustration overtaking him Isaac yanked violently on the door and with a crack it swung open. Metal shards from the shattered lock clinking onto the street. Isaac did not bother to worry about it and instead hurried to the elevator. In which he got a call from Scott.

“They found him,” Scott said, obviously weak with relief.

“Thank god, is he okay?” Isaac sighed. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Freezing, but alive. We’re taking him to the hospital,” Scott said.

“Keep me updated, I’m almost at Allison’s.”

He pounded on the Argent’s door for several minutes before an incredibly confused and adorably sleepy Allison answered.

“What the hell have you been doing?” Isaac couldn’t help but be short with her in his stress.

“Sleeping,” Allison responded coolly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You didn’t get any calls or texts?” He asked, puzzled.

Allison, rather than respond, wandered back into her apartment, picking up her phone. Isaac followed, remembering to shut the door behind him.

“My phone’s off,” Allison frowned. “I never turn my phone off.”

As the phone returned to life a swarm of late pings and notifications rattled out. Allison swiped through them quickly. “Sleepwalking? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, they found him a few minutes ago,” Isaac said. “They’re bringing him to the hospital.”

“I don’t know what happened, I never turn it off,” Allison still seemed distracted by her phone.

She hesitated before playing one of several dozen voicemails. Old static came blaring out with a man speaking in what sounded like japanese over it.

“Who is that?” Isaac asked her, but she seemed as confused as he was. Isaac, brow furrowed, stepped closer. The caller ID simply read ‘unknown number’.

“I don’t know. And I don’t know how it got on my phone,” she frowned.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked her carefully.

“Fine. Are you? You’re the one running around town looking for Stiles,” she said.

“I’m okay. You just seem… unsettled,” Isaac chose his words slowly.

“Yeah, well. I’m a little tired of weird mysterious shit cropping up when I just want to sleep,” Allison sighed.

“Yeah, me too,” Isaac couldn’t help a yawn.

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home,” Allison said. “I’d let you spend the rest of the night, but my dad might not appreciate that.”

“You don’t have to drive me-”

“Isaac, it’s three am. Let me do this one thing for you,” she said tiredly.

Isaac nodded mutely.

“Do you think Yukimura would know about that recording?” Isaac asked after a few minutes of driving in silence.

“Kira?” Allison asked, confused.

“No, her dad. The new history teacher,” Isaac laughed. “You really are tired.”

“Shut up,” Allison rolled her eyes. “We can ask him tomorrow.”

“God, I don’t even want to go to school tomorrow,” Isaac complained.

“Skip first period,” Allison shrugged. “You’ve earned that.”

“Melissa would rather we didn’t,” Isaac said.

“What happened to the bad boy I know and love?” Allison teased.

These words reminded Isaac of his… word blunder from after their date. He turned bright red. He did not reply.

“See you tomorrow, Ise,” Allison leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Isaac got out of the car and just before shutting the passenger door he heard it, “love you too.”

Before Isaac could stop or even register her words, Allison had pulled out of the driveway.

All exhaustion left him and Isaac felt overtaken with giddiness. Had he not feared waking the whole neighborhood he would’ve howled with joy. Almost forgetting his assignment in his euphoria, he pinched his arm.

“Love you too,” Isaac mumbled the words to himself as he unlocked the front door with shaky hands. Isaac paced the living room, now unable to sleep, until Scott came home.

“What’re you doing up?” He asked, exhaustion weighing his own expression.

“Waiting for you,” Isaac lied sheepishly, feeling embarrassed at his own lovestruck state.

“Allison okay?” Scott asked.

“Fine, just had her phone turned off,” Isaac said. “Stiles?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Scott, at these words, fell forwards into Isaac’s arms.

Isaac, while shocked, held on tightly to his friend. Scott trembled violently, sobbing into Isaac’s shirt. “I thought he was gonna die, Isaac.”

“He’s okay,” Isaac wasn’t sure what to say. “You’re okay.”

Scott wrapped his arms around Isaac’s waist, burying his head into the taller boy’s chest.

“B-But he might not have been!” Scott mumbled almost hysterically into Isaac’s shirt. “God, and I waited to call the police, what if I’d killed him, Isaac?!”

“Hey, hey,” Isaac found himself swaying slightly, almost rocking Scott. “You did everything you could. And it doesn’t matter now. Stiles is safe, Scott.”

“I-I just feel so scared still,” Scott sniffled.

“Of course you do, Scott. It’s okay to be scared,” Isaac soothed. “But everything is okay. Allison is safe. Melissa is safe. Lydia is safe. Stiles is safe. Everyone is okay, Scott. I promise everything is okay.”


	34. Chapter 34

Isaac wasn’t really sure how he had gotten here. This morning he and Allison had spoken to Mr. Yukimura and it had all gone downhill from there. Scott had been busy with whatever tests they were running on Stiles but he had still somehow ended up at the hospital with them.

All because he and Allison had decided that they should visit Stiles too.

He didn’t know what was going on or why live wires had exploded from the roof of Beacon Memorial or why water was now pouring onto the streets all he knew was that Allison was running forward and Isaac had to stop her.

“Allison!” He shouted her name and yanked her away from the waters edge at the last second. The water had continued to spread.

Isaac felt pain shuddering through his body. A tingle followed by his muscles spasming so he collapsed to the ground, unable to move.

In those final seconds before blackness consumed his vision, Isaac did not think of the electrical pulse from Argent’s stun baton all those months ago. He thought of Boyd. Collapsed in the electrified water flooding Derek’s apartment. Isaac didn’t want to die but he had saved Allison. And there were too many familiar faces he could join if anything came after this...

Isaac knew nothing but pain. He didn’t know that for a moment his heart had stopped. He did not know that Derek had been the one to run to his side and had screamed to Scott that he wasn’t breathing. He didn’t know that his friends and family were in a state of hysteria, surrounding him as a gurney rushed to wheel him to an operating room. He did not know that burns marred half of his body and that they would not heal. He did not know that Scott and Allison had spent over an hour pacing the waiting room, torn between worrying for him and worrying for the missing Stiles, while Melissa had tried to get any news on his condition. He did not know that the doctors had restarted his heart but did not know when he would wake up. That Scott had been forced home by his mother and Melissa by her boss but that Allison had stayed. She had slept in the waiting room and wept quietly to herself wondering if his condition was her fault.

That she had begged to see him and when they said

“Only family”

She had had to choke out the words “he doesn’t have any”

Or that Melissa had replied the following morning, “he’s got us.”

Melissa had snuck Allison and Scott into the operating room where he remained due to his delicate condition. He did not know that Scott held onto his hand and drew on his pain.

What he did know besides the agony that would not leave his burnt and raw tissue was the fact that somehow the pain lessened, it did not stop but for some reason, he felt his body relax as suffering turned to a dull ache. His subconscious ascended into relief as a pain he could only compare to the mental hysteria of the freezer faded into something bearable.

Peace.

Until he woke up.

Then he found himself trapped, not in a freezer, but in his own mind. Isaac saw his body move like he was looking through frosted glass. Unable to control his own actions.

Isaac did not know how but he felt himself resist. As a result,

he was dragged into one of his nightmares.

Isaac knew his body would hurt someone so he tried to force it to stop from getting out of the hospital bed, as consequence, he was in the freezer instead.

“Let me out!” Isaac screamed, pounding his fist against the metal above him, panic consuming every rational thought.

Like an old film was playing in the back of his mind, Isaac was vaguely aware of his body begin the path to Allison’s apartment.

“It’s not real, Isaac,” he mumbled to himself, but that was hard to believe when feeling crushed by this tiny box. With a whine of frustration, Isaac pounded on the lid once more. “This isn’t real!” He screamed and found himself bursting out of the freezer breathing heavily.

He was no fool. This was not a victory, this was a trap expanding into a maze.

A maze that looked like his old basement.

His subconscious was still aware of his journey to Allison’s but it was distant, like an out of focus camera. Every time he tried to focus on it, he heard a bang overhead causing him to flinch and cover his head on instinct.

Okay. Try to regain control, be greeted with his father, punching walls or breaking cups upstairs.

Isaac had to stop himself. He had to protect Allison, he did not know what this feral side of him holding the reigns would do-

“Isaac!” His father’s actual voice shouted down to him, causing Isaac’s heart to race until Allison was forced away from the forefront of his mind and was replaced by pure survival instinct.

It was an effective strategy.

“Come on, he’s not real,” Isaac’s hands, balled into fists, hit his own face in an attempt to refocus through the adrenaline. “She needs you-”

“Stop hiding, you worthless excuse for a son!” The basement door slammed open and Isaac immediately receded to protect his head.

“Not real,” Isaac said through gritted teeth. “Allison-”

Isaac choked on his own words as a very real blow to the head came down on him.

“Pathetic. Cowering and mumbling to yourself. Can’t take consequences like a man?” His father’s words were biting and his voice cold.

Isaac yelped as he was yanked to his feet by his collar. Isaac, as he had done for years, avoided his father’s eyes at all costs.

Despite feeling a fist holding onto his collar, this made it easier to focus on the blurring images at the back of his mind. He was at her apartment building now-

“Look at me!” His father’s fists grated against his cheek and into his jaw, throwing him back into the pile of junk behind him, causing corners and edges to sharply bruise his back and blood to drip from the side of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Isaac found himself mumbling hysterically out of habit. He wasn’t healing in this world. Blood was filling his mouth.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Isaac,” his father snarled, yanking him forward by his hair and throwing him onto the concrete floor.

“When has it ever?” Isaac growled. He had to take control, for her-

“You aren’t getting out of the freezer this time,” Isaac felt his father start to pull him back towards the waiting tomb.

“No!” Isaac screamed desperately, his nails once again clawing into the floor. “Please, please I’m sorry!” Isaac knew still on some level this was not real, but he could not think while reliving the very memories responsible for the scars on the floor of his old basement. Isaac recalled his fear, not of one of the countless nights in the freezer, but of that supply closet. Allison, trying to calm him.

Isaac, nails still digging into old grooves in the floor, found himself laughing hysterically.

“Put me in there and I’ll have time t-to focus,” he slurred through swollen gums.

Isaac felt his father’s hands release his ankles and for a moment he thought he’d won and began to concentrate on Allison’s front door which he, now regretting Allison’s offer, knew the keycode to the alarm. He actually saw his own hands hesitate, as if held back, on the doorknob.

That is, until he was shocked out of it by a blow to his back. Isaac gasped, the wind knocked out of him. He heard a clatter of the belt buckle.

“Don’t you move, Isaac. You deserve this,” his father’s cold voice played like an old record.

Isaac knew that feeling as well as he knew that sound. Isaac curled in on himself as the belt lashed across his back, causing him to gasp in pain. Isaac could no longer worry for Allison’s fate when blow after blow landed on his back. Beatings with the belt were about as rare as the nights in the freezer. Shattered cups and backhanded slaps were more common. The rarity made the fear more real.

His father finally let up. Isaac stayed curled on the floor, trembling.

Isaac felt his father roughly pull up the back of his shirt before tutting quietly, “not enough, is it, Isaac? No blood drawn, no lesson learned.”

His father had hesitated too long, Isaac was back inside his own head, or out of it, rather.

His body was now sitting in Allison’s darkened bedroom, waiting.

“Isaac?” Allison’s surprised voice called to him from the doorway and Isaac wanted to scream out

‘Stay away from me!’

But he did not have control of his body yet, he was merely a spectator.

“Isaac!” Another voice was calling to him. His father drawing him away as his possessed self spoke to Allison. “You can’t save her. You’re too weak.”  
Isaac yelped as the next strike definitely drew the blood his father craved. More concerning to Isaac was the fact that his father was no longer speaking from memories. He was talking directly about Allison.

“You kill everyone, son,” his father spoke in a tone without emotion, beyond cold, but inhuman. Another strike tore away his focus and his skin.

“Allison,” Isaac whispered, his voice cracked.

“You think you won’t kill her, son? Like you killed your mother? Like how you let your brother go off to die?” Another lash caused Isaac to arch his back with a ragged gasp of pain. “How about Erica? Your first friend,” his father turned to mocking. “She was such a pretty, fiery girl, it’s a shame that the last time you saw her was locked in a closet with her rotting corpse.”

Another wound to ooze blood.

“You deserve that memory, Isaac. Of the smell of her old wounds and those dead eyes. You remember her eyes, don’t you Isaac? How glassy they were and how long you stared at them, locked in that closet,” another. “And what about Boyd?”

“Stop,” Isaac hissed.

“Boyd died because you made the wrong call. You know his mother and father never got closure. That their quiet boy just turned up dead one day and that’s your fault!”

Isaac screamed as another tear formed in his skin and he clawed feverishly against the stone.

“You did nothing. And you’re doing nothing now. All that aggression. What if you tear Allison apart? You’re a monster, Isaac.”

Isaac stared at his bloodied fingertips, “I’m not a monster,” he mumbled a little incoherently. “I’m a werewolf.”

Isaac, his nails gone and replaced by claws, clambered to his feet unsteadily. His father, belt now slick with blood, did not move.

Isaac did.

His claws slashed through his father’s throat as rage overtook trauma. He did not stop tearing at flesh until his father’s neck and torso had the appearance of meat through the grinder.

But he had won. Isaac found himself immediately jolted back to reality where he could kiss Allison without fear.

"You sure you're okay, Isaac?" Allison pulled back, hands cupping his face and searching his eyes for some sign of distress.

"I am now," Isaac murmured, leaning back in to kiss her. Victory pounded through his veins instead of fear and in that euphoria Isaac did not care about whatever dangers lurked in Beacon Hills. He only cared about her.

Her hands began to trail under the back of his shirt, drifting over his skin lightly. Allison's lips continued to ebb and flow with his but her hands began to pull at his shirt with some longing. She pulled back only long enough to pull his shirt over his head and when they resumed Isaac trailed kisses up her neck, his own hands not wanting to wander, but just to hold her and know she was safe. Safe from him and from everything else even if just for tonight.

"Stop being such a gentlemen," Allison teased, her whispered words tickling his ear. She guided his hands once more and had him pull off her own shirt. Isaac, rather than reply, just cupped her cheeks and looked into those warm brown eyes with the intention of getting lost in them.

Until a nagging concern returned, "your dad..."

"Is going to be out all night looking for Stiles," she said before immediately returning her lips to his collarbone.

"Shouldn't we...?" Isaac felt unsure. This simply felt too good to be true.

Allison pulled away for the first time that night, "do you not want to?" She sounded concerned.

"No, no it's not that," Isaac shook his head.

"You were really hurt, Isaac. If you don't feel ready..."

"Allison," he pressed his forehead against hers. "I want to be with you. In every way possible."

It was late when Allison had climbed out of bed and put on her pajamas and Isaac had felt unbelievably smitten. Allison had curled up next to his bare chest and Isaac had been convinced he could sleep easy next to her.

When Isaac awoke the next morning he was not curled next to Allison as he had left her the night before, he was in a darkened basement.

"No! No! This can't be happening... I beat it..." Isaac immediately entered a state of panic.

Isaac, blood pounding through his ears, collapsed to the ground, trying to steady himself, to return to reality-

“Well done, Isaac,” his father spoke to him through a jaw that now blended into a mangled neck. “I’m so proud of you.”

Isaac scrambled away, resisting the urge to vomit.

“No, son. You hold onto that anger,” his father’s words came out hushed but his eyes remained glassy and unseeing. Like Erica’s.

“You didn’t kill them, did you son?” His father said. “No no, you didn’t kill Erica or Boyd. Those twins did. Ethan and Aiden. They murdered them and you let them walk?”

“Scott said-”

“Scott? Who threw you into a wall for loving a girl who wanted nothing to do with him?” His father snarled grotesquely through his tattered face. “You deserve justice. Boyd deserves justice. Do it, to protect Allison.”

Isaac’s mind grew foggy but the basement and his dad’s corpse faded and instead he found himself staring in the mirror of Allison’s bedroom. Isaac felt righteous.

He did not know that rather than fight him, whatever was now possessing him had handed him that righteousness.

And with it, bloodlust.

His mind, still misted with fogginess which distorted his identity just enough to make this possession seamlessly blended with his grief, controlled his body to sift through Allison Argent’s weapons.

“There you are,” Allison’s sleepy voice reached through his haze, but his mind blocked out every smile, kiss, and moment with ring daggers. Piercing his chest over and over. “What’re you doing over there?”

“There’s still a lot of weapons here,” a voice, both his and not-his replied. “I thought your new code was about protecting.”

“Most of them are non lethal,” Allison said, concern growing.

“This looks pretty lethal to me,” Isaac held up one of the ring daggers in question. “Maybe you should keep them. There’s still a few of us out there who aren’t quite so non-lethal,” he said mockingly.

The memory of old wounds felt physical as his hatred was the only thing allowed out.

“Like the twins,” Isaac continued. Boyd, kneeling in the water, blood pouring from his chest, consumed his vision.

“I thought we were giving them a second chance,” Allison said warily.

“They don’t deserve it,” Isaac said through gritted teeth. The scent of Erica’s rotting corpse returned to his nose.

“Things are different now. It doesn’t have to be like that anymore,” desperation was creeping into Allison’s voice.

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that,” Isaac said dryly. His possessed body had prepared for this, chaining Allison’s ankles to the bed while she slept.

“Isaac wait-” she discovered the insurance he had put in place. “Isaac!” She shouted after him but he had already left. Argent weapons in hand.

They would still be at the school. The twins were still playing students, Isaac thought ruefully. They had murdered his pack and had the audacity to play lacrosse and fuck his classmates. Isaac would slaughter them.

The halls of Beacon Hills High were deserted. With a duffle bag under one arm, he headed for the locker room.

“Hey, Isaac! You’re out of the hospital!” Danny stopped him. “Look, don’t judge me for what I wrote in the card, Coach had us write something sappy.” Danny frowned. “You okay, Isaac? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine, Danny,” Isaac said through a tight smile. “Why don’t you go home?”

With an unsettled nod, Danny hurried on.

Isaac opened the bag he had stolen from the Argents once the corridor was deserted. With a smirk, Isaac pulled out what looked like a combination of a stun gun and a taser. Close ahead, the arguing voices of the twins reached him.

Isaac was delighted to find that, during their macho face off of sharp words, their claws had gotten out and they now held onto each other. Two in one shot.  
With a shudder of electricity that Isaac found extra satisfying sent the twins crumpling to the floor.

“I guess this is the part where I say something witty,” Isaac said coolly, that smirk never leaving his face as he approached their collapsed bodies. Isaac, with a rage and strength he hadn’t had for a long time, smashed the back of the gun onto Ethan’s head. “I’m not witty.” Aiden, with a sickening crack, was put out of his misery as well.

With a giddiness that felt unnatural, Isaac dragged the twin’s bodies one by one into the locker room. He noticed that he was humming to himself.

Isaac stopped for a moment, staring at their helpless and unconscious bodies with a bitter satisfaction.

But how to kill them?

Isaac stared around at the lockers. Worthless.

With a shove Isaac broke the lock on Coach’s office door and began rummaging through drawers. He paused.

“Oh coach,” Isaac murmured. “Rehab didn’t go so well, then?”

He pulled the poorly hidden bottle of whiskey from Finstock’s desk and ripped a piece of cloth from an old uniform. Hands trembling, either a side effect of the possession he was barely aware of or due to excitement he didn’t know, Isaac shoved the fabric partially into the bottle.

“Come on, coach, you gotta have a lighter,” he continued to talk to himself, going through drawers with some franticness. “I’m gonna burn it down,” Isaac mumbled hysterically. “For Erica. For Boyd.” Clutching a lighter in one fist, flicking it shakily, unable to get it to light. He stared around the room, anger growing in his chest and turning into a pounding in his head. “For everyone.”

“I’m gonna burn it,” he muttered. “I’m gonna burn it.”

Isaac barely registered the blur of motion of someone tearing the lit fabric from the bottle. He looked to his right.

Kira, in a black beanie had chosen to accessorize with a silver Katana.

“Nice sword,” Isaac said dryly. He dropped the bottle, allowing it to shatter.

The only thing that told him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t truly acting under his own will, was the fact that a bottle shattering did not cause him to flinch.

He advanced, glass crunching under his boots, without hesitation. A searing pain struck his back and for a moment Isaac feared he was trapped in his own head again. He collapsed to the ground, his eyes flashing yellow as, almost on instinct, he fully shifted.

“Isaac!” He was not in his head. That was Allison.

Blinded by senseless rage and a shift that had almost turned him into an animal, Isaac moved to fight his girlfriend without hesitation. It was like his first full moon all over again. The girls ran to barricade themselves in the office but before he could break it down he heard a pair of snarling jaws behind him. He turned to face two shifted twins. They slammed him into the lockers and the three of them became a whirlwind of slashing claws and animalistic violence. Aiden was slammed into Coach’s door, shattering the glass, and Isaac joined him to drag Ethan to the ground. His fogged brain did not take a side, it only tears and tears at any flesh before him.

Ethan had left the fight. Instead, he had joined one with Kira. Isaac was stopped from following in suit by a bolt to the chest. Isaac, snarling, turned to face Allison, who had her crossbow raised. He was forced back by a kick to the chest and Aiden took his place. He followed behind him, circling the lockers, closing in on the two warriors between them.

Then, something changed.

That rage and that fog that had clouded his thoughts faded to blackness. The last thing he felt before hitting the ground was blood dripping from his nose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I totally forgot Allison and Isaac had sex the same night he was possessed BECAUSE IT WASN'T MENTIONED OR EVEN INFERRED TO UNTIL THE NEXT EPISODE. So Basically I went back and added a little moment because the other option would be that Isaac didn't remember it and he lied to Allison about it which would have very troubling implications about consent and Isaac's mental health. So. No there is no smut, but they do have their moment.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So turns out I forgot Allison and Isaac had sex during his possession. It isn't smut, but I added that in and explained more in the last chapter!  
> The chapter was only edited slightly so you don't need to reread it, and the author's note is basically me just complaining that the episode doesn't reference it until the next one. That's all!

Isaac woke up to a crossbow to his forehead.

“Whoa, whoa,” Isaac scrambled back on the tile floor of the locker room, his memories vague and fuzzy.

“So, you’re you?” Allison said slowly, lowering her bow.

“Yeah, I’m me, what the hell happened?” Isaac’s mouth tasted like blood that was unusually bitter and he felt something caught in his throat.

“So, it looks like you were possessed,” Kira said nervously. “You and those two,” she pointed to the twins, Aiden, looking barely conscious was trying to slap his brother awake. Thick, blackish blood dribbled down their fronts.

“Do you want to explain a little more?” Isaac’s head was pounding.

“Whatever’s possessing Stiles, it’s uh, out of him now,” Allison said a little uncertainly.

“Well, technically. It’s in him, just another him,” Kira added helpfully.

“It’s in another body, but that body is also Stiles. We think. Maybe it’s a clone? I really don’t know,” Allison struggled to explain.

“I will wrap my head around that at my next therapy session,” Isaac rubbed his temples tiredly, “so, are we okay? We’re not possessed?”

“It’s still inside of you,” Kira said.

Isaac felt his blood run cold, “what is still inside of us?” Isaac said slowly.

Allison tried to answer him. “We think that the Nogitsune got ahold of an Oni-”

“From my mom,” Kira added.

“-and used them to possessed your bodies through something. And, well. Deaton is on his way to get it out of you,” Allison seemed sympathetic at least.

“What is it, exactly?” Isaac asked. Was he about to be cut open and have tumor removed? He was barely recovered from the whole electrically induced coma.

“A firefly? That’s what Deaton said, right?” Kira was interrupted by the man himself.

“It looks like a firefly,” the veterinarian shrugged dismissively. “It isn’t one.”

“I’m not going first,” Isaac said quickly.

“Aiden?” He turned to the conscious twin. Ethan was stirring blearily.

“Let’s get this over with,” Aiden muttered. “What do I need to do?”

“In theory, you just need to throw up a dead insect, but I doubt it will let go that easily,” the doctor held open Aiden’s jaw. “Can you make yourself sick?”

“I can try,” Aiden said resentfully. With a furrowed brow he attempted to gag himself, yet his own limbs seemed to defy him or work effectively.

“That proves I’m on the right track. It doesn’t seem to want to let you,” Dr. Deaton said grimly.

“So, what now-”

Aiden was stopped by the much shorter man essentially shoving his fist down his throat. Isaac, looking mutedly horrified, watched the bizarre struggle until the doctor eventually let up, unsuccessful.

“This will make this process even more unpleasant, for you and the oni,” Deaton said almost apologetically.

“What?” Aiden choked out, leaning against the lockers for support.

“Think of it like an illness. Your body creates a fever to try and make the host uninhabitable. We need to create drastic temperature change to make it try and flee the host, otherwise it will remain unreachable,” Deaton explained in a calm tone, as if he were talking to one of his four legged patients, but Aiden seemed less than soothed.

“How do we do that?” He said slowly.

“Well, we are in a locker room,” Deaton moved past the struggling twin and turned on a showerhead. Cold. “It won’t be a fever.”

Aiden reluctantly followed, taking his shirt off.

“You don’t need to do that,” Deaton said. “You teenagers feeling the need to take your shirts off…”

Aiden looked like he was about to snap back but Deaton instead shoved his head into the icy stream and resumed the search inside of his mouth. Aiden seemed to seize for a moment, before the doctor tore the unassuming body of an insect from his throat. It pooled over the drain with the strange, thick blood.  
Ethan was next. Cold water poured into his throat, coughing back up with the blood, and he began to turn.

“Don’t fight it, hold still,” Ethan clawed at the walls as the doctor tried to calm him, “almost there.” With a disgusting, retching cough, Deaton removed the infestation from Ethan’s lips.

Ethan stumbled forward, almost fleeing from the cold water and the determined doctor.

“Isaac, you’re next,” Deaton turned to him.

Dread filling his weakened body and eyes already flashing amber in resistance, “I’m aware, all right?” Sarcasm was his only strength.

Deaton, deciding faster was better, yanked him under the icy stream and suddenly Isaac couldn’t breathe. For a moment he thought Deaton’s nails were clawing at his throat but he realized with some horror that whatever was inside him was holding on.

“Don’t fight it,” Deaton said firmly as Isaac, in a state of panic, resisted the doctor’s firm grip. “Don’t fight.” Isaac couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He just wanted the clawing pain in his throat to stop.

He felt his body begin to seize as a strange power seemed to evacuate his limbs and more blood poured up his throat violently, “Isaac, stay still.” Deaton said as if that were even possible.

“Got it,” Deaton said and Isaac felt the terrible burning leave his throat and with it the headache that had plagued his body.

Isaac stumbled away, coughing violently, feeling like a dog who had just received a shot. Allison held onto his arm tightly for a moment, looking pale with worry. At least the cold water had washed the blood from his sweater.

“Are they okay now?” Allison asked.

“I hope so,” Deaton said as Isaac spat water. Hope so? So he wasn’t sure? “The part that’s worrisome is that this was most likely a distraction for what was happening to Stiles.”

“There’s really two of them now?” Kira asked anxiously. “How is that even possible?” She really was new to all of this. The rest of them had stopped questioning ‘possible’ a long time ago.

“But how did the other one just take Lydia?” Allison asked the more important question as Isaac and the twins shivered behind them.

“We turned around and they were gone,” Deaton said. Typical. “So was her car.”

“So no one notices him just kidnapping her right out of the house?” Aiden said bitterly.

“Most of us were concentrating on the bizarre sight of a creature materializing from out of the floor,” the usually calm doctor snapped at him.

“Hold on. How are you so sure which Stiles is which?” Kira was catching on to the real questions.

“That’s what they’re trying to figure out now,” Deaton said with a sigh.

“Isaac, are you sure you’re okay?” Allison rubbed Isaac’s trembling shoulders.

“Not at all, but what else is new?” Isaac said dryly.

“Thanks for your concern about us!” Aiden said sarcastically and Allison shot him a dirty look.

“Isaac-” Allison looked as if she was about to say something that was weighing her but Kira interrupted.

“Scott says my mom is coming to his house,” Kira looked pale. “I don’t know what they think she’s going to do, but she’ll try and kill Stiles or her oni will or whatever. I have to go,” Kira fled the room, sword still in hand.

“What do we do now?” Allison asked Deaton.

“We try and find Lydia,” Deaton sighed. “She doesn’t have a car. If she has any hope of stopping her mother, I’ll have to take her to Scott’s.”

“And the Nogitsune,” Isaac added.

“First, we should probably get you some dry clothes,” Allison said.

“We can check the woods for scents,” Ethan stood.

“Tonight you shouldn’t be doing shit. Isaac and I are going to try and recover from whatever the hell that fight was and so should you. We’re useless until tomorrow,” the words seemed to pain Allison as she knew it meant waiting to find her best friend.

“Allison, I’m okay. We should start looking,” Isaac said softly.

“Isaac, you’re freezing cold and you could hardly stand a minute ago. Also didn’t you wake up from a coma like three days ago?” She said pointedly.  
Isaac couldn’t will himself to argue.

“Come on. Let’s get you home and see if Kira’s mom murdered Stiles,” Allison said tiredly. Isaac wished she was being sarcastic.

Isaac headed for the door, his legs beginning to give beneath him and he held on tightly to the doorframe.

“Do you think it’s the coma or the possession?” Allison held onto his other arm, trying to support him.

“Don’t know,” Isaac muttered. Isaac moved to push forward into the hall, Allison stopped him from keeling forward by pressing a hand into his chest.

“Come on, tough guy,” Allison said, pulling his arm around her much shorter shoulders.

“What’re you doing?” He asked a little grumpily.

“You’re not gonna crush me, you giraffe,” Allison helped him down the hall. Isaac tried to ignore the snickering of the twins behind him.

“I… I didn’t hurt you, when we fought, did I?” Isaac frowned, his fogged memory returning. 

“Nah,” she said, all but dragging him to the car. “I kicked your ass.”

“That’s my girl,” Isaac smirked.

“Mhm,” she began to help him into the passenger side of her car.

“Okay, I’m not helpless. My legs are just a little wobbly,” Isaac said tersely.

“Maybe because you were in a hospital bed for a week,” she said. “I’m gonna take you home. Hopefully we won’t have to fight off more demons. You’ll get some dried clothes and ideally some rest, and we’ll…” Allison’s voice shook slightly. “We’ll go find Lydia in the morning.”

“We’ll find her. We found Stiles and we can find her,” Isaac reached across the dash and held onto her hand.

Allison nodded mutely before pulling away from the school, focusing on driving to avoid her own fear.

The McCall house was lit despite it approaching four in the morning.

“Good sign or bad?” Isaac muttered. “I’m fine,” he said when Allison went to pull his arm back around her shoulders.

She still stood by his side, so he could lean some weight on her if need be. He didn’t say anything, but he appreciated it.

Isaac was greeted by a gasp of surprise when he entered the crowded living room. Before he could take in the array of faces, he was thrown off by someone throwing their arms around him.

“Dude! You’re okay!” Scott held onto him tightly, Isaac almost falling back from the force of it.

“I would be if you didn’t suffocate me,” Isaac mumbled, blushing. Feeling a strange sense of contentment that Scott’s first instinct was to hug him. “So, you found Stiles.”

“You should not be on your feet, Isaac,” Melissa immediately began to check him over for signs of injury, not so subtly making a grab for his pulse as well. Upon deciding that he was medically sound, Melissa hugged him tightly as well. Isaac, allowing his exhaustion to finally weigh him, melted into her arms. “Glad to have you back,” she said softly as her tall foster son buried his head in her hair.

She pulled away, frowning slightly, “why are you all wet?”

“Long story,” Isaac sighed. “Allison would you explain while I go change?”

Allison nodded, looking relieved to be able to collapse onto the McCall’s couch and take a breath.

Isaac struggled upstairs alone, his own body weighing him down. It felt like a weight was lifted only once he arrived in his room and collapsed onto his bed. It was a strange feeling, to be relieved to be home rather than afraid. Isaac felt himself drifting off, but he was also still shivering. Isaac forced himself to his feet, pulling his sweater over his head and wriggling out of wet jeans. At that point he was halfway under the blankets before with a tired sigh, he remembered that he owed his family some answers.

Isaac pulled on a clean t shirt and sweatpants, determined that after this he would crawl back into bed.

“-Deaton got it out of them, but he’s more worried about Stiles,” Allison said as he entered the living room.

He scanned the group. Allison, Melissa, Scott, and Stiles. It seemed Kira and her mother had left. Stiles was also alive, which was arguably a bonus.

“What happened with all of you? I thought Kira’s mom was coming to finish him off. Also, weren’t you possessed?” Isaac said dryly.

“How would you know? You woke up from a coma like twelve hours ago,” Stiles snapped back.

Allison moved down the couch, patting the spot next to her for Isaac to join them.

“Stiles isn’t possessed anymore. The oni, the ones with Kira’s mom, cleared him, I guess,” Scott explained. “But,” Scott seemed to choke up on his words, “when we realized what was happening, the Nogitsune and Lydia, they were gone.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Scott,” Melissa rubbed her son’s back gently.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Stiles mumbled a little hysterically.

“This isn’t your fault either,” Scott said firmly.

“But it is. I did those things and I remember doing them and now he’s walking around in my body and he could be hurting her!” Stiles rubbed his own eyes furiously, his lip trembling.

“It isn’t you,” Isaac said, sounding annoyed.

Stiles stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“God, I’m really gonna have to say it,” Isaac sighed, slouching. “It wasn’t you. I was literally just possessed too and I know it wasn’t me. I beat the shit out of the twins, but sadly, it wasn’t really me. So, don’t feel all guilty and shit, it wasn’t your fault and all that.”

“Guess it must be true if you’re actually being nice to me,” Stiles said tiredly.

“Isaac, are you okay? You sort of got electrocuted, almost died, and then crawled out of the hospital with a demon inside of you,” Scott asked.

“I’m tired. I shouldn’t be, I was asleep for a week,” Isaac sighed.

“You saved me, Ise,” Allison held onto Isaac’s hand tightly, leaning into his shoulder.

Isaac felt flustered, “I just… I don’t know,” Isaac muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles kept mumbling. “I… I did that. I cut up the wiring and I’m why you got hurt.”

“I’m fine, I was knocked out,” Isaac laughed nervously under the attention.

“You were in a lot of pain, bud,” Scott said quietly. “We were with you, as much as we could’ve been, and you were really hurt. You were all burnt, and you were in so much pain…”

Isaac felt a lump form in his throat at the fact that everyone in this room was openly caring about him.

“God, you trying to make me cry?” Isaac said sarcastically, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tremor in his voice.

“No, but I am about to make you go to bed. All of you,” Melissa said pointedly. “It’s almost dawn. There’s no point in looking for Lydia if you’ll pass out in the process.”

“I should go,” Allison stood.

“Allison, you should stay here. It’s late, there’s no reason for you to drive home,” Melissa urged. “Maybe one of the boys will take the couch?” She turned to them.

“I-” Isaac started.

“Not you, Isaac. You’ve been through enough,” she said sharply.

“I’ll take the couch,” Stiles sighed. “Least I can do.”

“Allison can-” Isaac started.

“If you were about to say she could sleep with you in your room, you’ve got another thing coming,” Melissa teased. “You’re still teenagers.”

Isaac blushed.

“Allison can take my bed,” Scott said, “I’ve crashed in Isaac’s room often enough.”

“Guys, I could’ve just slept on the loveseat or on the floor…” Allison said.

“Let’s stop talking about sleep and actually get some, eh?” Stiles burrowed down into the couch.

Melissa smiled and rolled her eyes, tossing him a blanket.

“He’s right, off to bed, all of you,” Melissa pressed on the backs of both of her sons, ushering them towards the stairs.

“Stiles, you gonna be okay alone down here?” Scott asked.

“I’m fine, Scott,” Stiles smiled weakly. The bags had barely lifted from under his eyes.

“Good night, Al,” Scott said with a yawn. “You know where everything is,” he left her in his room.

“Isaac?” Allison stopped him. “I… I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Isaac hugged her tightly.

“We were so worried about you,” Allison said tearfully, her head buried in his chest.

“I’m okay,” he said softly. “We’ll find her, Al,” he said.

Allison nodded, wiping her eyes. “Goodnight, Isaac,” she mumbled.

“Good night,” Isaac left her, wishing that Melissa’s justified concern about dating teenagers wasn’t there.

“So, you, uh, fought the twins, huh?” Scott asked, when they entered Isaac’s bedroom.

“Yeah. Wish I’d been aware of it, though. Would’ve been a lot more fun,” Isaac shrugged.

“You might get the chance to beat up Stiles, so,” Scott forced some humor into his voice.

“It’s gonna be okay, Scott. We’ll figure it out,” Isaac said slowly.

“I thought you were supposed to be the pessimist,” Scott said shakily.

“Guess that means it must be true,” Isaac shrugged.

“We were so scared for you, Ise,” Scott said softly.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. I’m sorry I scared you like that,” Isaac said quietly.

“You were in so much pain,” Scott said emphatically. “I felt it, Isaac. And you let that happen to you. You shoved Allison out of the way and put yourself through that. And-and you’re apologizing?!”

“Hey,” Isaac spoke softly, reaching out to take his alpha’s hand. “You would’ve done the same for me,” Isaac thought back on that night so long ago. When Scott held handed him the sedatives for Jackson and had told him to be careful. “You taught me to do the same.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Isaac,” Scott curled on the left side of the bed, looking weighted with exhaustion, the same way Isaac felt.

“Me too,” Isaac sighed, laying across from his friend. Only then did the tension leave his body and sleep overwhelmed him.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters until this part is over. The story of Isaac in France will be part two.

“Isaac,” Allison gently shook Isaac’s shoulder. “Come on, the sheriff found Lydia’s car.”

Isaac jolted awake, fear tearing through him, calming only once he realized where he was. That he was in control of his body.

“It’s nine am. You good to get up?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Isaac mumbled, rubbing his face and pushing his hair back. “Where is everyone?” He said, realizing the house was quiet.

“They’re all out looking for her,” Allison said.

“Why didn’t you get me up sooner?” Isaac jumped up.

“Ms. McCall thought you should rest. She doesn’t think you’re totally healthy yet,” Allison said. “I agreed.”

“But Lydia-”

“Has about fifteen other people looking for her. And now, us. So get dressed,” Allison said.

Isaac scrambled to pull on a shirt and jeans, grabbed a jacket and hurried to follower her to the car.

“I’m thinking we go to her car and try and catch a scent,” Allison said, getting into her own car.

“What’re the rest of them doing?” Isaac asked.

“The twins are checking the woods for a scent too, and Scott took Stiles to see the sheriff,” Allison explained, “and Kira’s mom said she can’t do much until nightfall. And we’re definitely gonna need their help. Until then, it’s just a waiting game.” They were heading to somewhere Isaac didn’t know, south of downtown.

It was an empty lot. Inside of it, only Lydia’s car.

Allison marched up to the chainlink fence and rattled the gate. Isaac walked past her and with a bit of effort, tore the chain in half. He held the gate open for her.

“That’s it. That’s Lydia’s car,” Allison said a little unnecessarily.

Isaac suddenly felt a pang of emotion, similar to how he could feel it when his father was angry even when he didn’t show it. The air reeked of anger.

“The scent is strong with emotion,” he told Allison.

“Fear?” She asked.

“Anger,” he said. It had to be. It wasn’t like it just smelled of anger, that wasn’t how it worked, it was more like the scent of aggression. There was probably something more scientific, but Isaac just knew that the old scent of sweat radiated aggression.

“Sounds like Lydia,” Allison sighed. She paced the driver’s side of the car “Let’s see what else we can find.”

Isaac laid flat on the ground, fearing for a moment that if he looked under the car he might find a body. He shook away the irrationality. If there was a body he would’ve smelled it.

“Ah, just… just out of curiosity,” Allison called to him, now something awkward in her tone. “Do you remember the other night?”

“You mean the night before last night?” Isaac called back, still staring underneath the car as if it would distract him from Allison’s awkwardness. He did, in fact, remember and know exactly what she was referring to. Isaac felt worried, why was she so uncomfortable with it?

“That night before you weren’t you,” Allison explained a little uncertainly, still talking very loudly across the car.

Isaac back to his feet, he said nothing but his head remained tilted and his brow furrowed. Then, he spoke, “yeah, I remember,” he said carefully.

Allison climbed into the front seat, seeming unsure of how to continue the conversation. Isaac followed in suit to the passenger side. Isaac glanced around, unsure if Allison wanted him to engage or not. He bit his tongue.

“So that night,” Allison began, “were you you, or were you not you?”

“You mean, the night when we were us?” Isaac didn’t know how else to put it.

Allison nodded, that awkward half smile forming, “yeah. I just-I just want to know if…” Allison gestured with her hands, seeming unsure of her words, Isaac nodded along, chewing on his lip nervously. “If it was actually you with me.”

Isaac still felt worried. Had she not wanted to? Was she regretting it?

Feeling vaguely ashamed, he finally looked at her, “did-did you want it to be someone else?” He forced the words out.

“No. No,” Allison said quickly. 

“Okay,” Isaac half whispered. His voice grew so quiet at times.

She started to giggle, “no, of course not.”

Isaac couldn’t help laugh a little bit too, now feeling bashful, “good,” he said with an uneasy grin. He thought back on how much he loved holding her that night, how beautiful she had looked and how he had wanted nothing more than to be as close to her as he could, “cause it was me,” he said a little hoarsely.  
Allison nodded sharply, seeming caught up in her own emotions.

“And… I do remember it,” Isaac said, a strange joy and adoration forming just from the memories. He pinched his arm. “I really remember it,” he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. He needed her to understand how much he cared about her. How much being with her meant to him.

Allison looked down, fiddling with her hands in her lap. The moment seemed to pass into a calmer one. Where they just sat quietly with each other’s presence.   
Even as Allison looked ahead, Isaac found himself staring at her. Her lips, full and beautiful between her high cheekbones and the way her hair curled slightly around her ear…

Allison sat up, staring out the left window with much more intensity. Surprising Isaac, she breathed on it. The glass fogged, revealing letters.

DONT FIND ME

Allison, her contentment turning back to fear, stared back at him. He would have to tell her how much he loved her once they had Lydia back.

“Isaac, I’m sorry, but I need to get some stuff, I’m gonna have to drop you off back at the house,” Allison said.

“What kind of stuff?” Isaac asked.

“Lethal stuff,” Allison said grimly.

“Okay. You do what you have to do,” Isaac tried to soothe her. “I’ll try and help Scott.”

They arrived at the McCall house empty handed.

“Isaac?” Allison burst out before he got out of the car.

He stopped, stumbling slightly.

“I love you. You know that, right?” Allison spoke carefully.

“Y-Yeah,” Isaac stammered. After a moment he remembered, “love you too! I, uh, I really do.”

“Okay,” she moved to leave.

“Why’d you say it like that?” He stopped her. “Like… like there’s something wrong.”

“I just worry. And I want you to remember that, especially with everything going on,” Allison said with half a smile. “See you later, Ise.”

“Bye,” Isaac said softly. He stayed standing there until her car disappeared around the corner.

Isaac reentered the empty house, feeling lost in thought, that is, until a few minutes later the door opened behind him.

“Isaac,” Mr. McCall frowned. “You’re not at the hospital, I see.”

“I, uh,” Isaac felt a little bewildered.

“Or in school,” he said.

Isaac’s awkwardness turned to annoyance. “I just woke up from a coma, so sorry if I’m taking a day off.”

“Is my son also taking a day off?” He said sharply.

“I don’t know what he does all the time. Isn’t that his parent’s job?” Isaac snapped.

“And what would you know about parenting?” It was a petty jab.

“What the hell are you doing here? And I thought your priority would be whoever stabbed you,” Isaac said.

“I was going to drop off some paperwork. For the report on the break in,” Mr. McCall said coldly. “Evidently, there are more important things to discuss. Like why you are here, alone, and not in school or a hospital.”

“Or juvie?” Isaac said sarcastically. “I know what you think of me, but maybe if you trusted your family you wouldn’t be so in the wrong.”

“Isaac, why don’t you sit down while I call my ex wife and see if she knows where my son is,” Mr. McCall rather forcefully referred to the couch. Isaac, still wary of the man, sat on the table instead out of spite. “Whatever justificiations you think you have, I have a right to be cautious.”

Isaac found that he too was rather cautious. Isaac did not like this man and he definitely did not like being alone with him. Isaac folded his arms defensively, his eyes tracking the man’s movements with an attention to detail that only grew from fear.

Before McCall had the chance to call Melissa, Stiles, Scott, and some girl came rushing in through the door.

“What’re you doing here?” Scott said. Isaac stared to him almost pleadingly. Get this asshole away from me, he thought, wishing Scott could hear him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Scott’s father shrugged, looking more disappointed than angry. Isaac, stared between the two of them uncomfortably.

“Free period!” Stiles butted in. “We’re doing group study.”

“Who’s she?” McCall asked. Isaac had been about to as well.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Stiles, after a moment's hesitation, put his arm around the incredibly uncomfortable looking girl.

“You’re not my type,” the girl almost seemed disgusted by the idea and pulled away from him.

Looking annoyed at his failing lie, Stiles continued, “well, obviously we have a lot to talk about,” he said dryly.

Isaac nodded, as if that would make Stiles’ bullshit more believable.

“We should maybe take this upstairs,” Stiles seemed as desperate as Isaac to get away from the tense McCalls.

“He’s my type,” the girl said and after a moment Isaac realized she was staring at him.

Unsure whether to be flattered or disconcerted, Isaac nodded with wide eyes. He stared to Scott once again for help. Scott looked as lost as he did.

“Okay, Isaac can come too,” Stiles said quickly, scratching at his face erratically.

Isaac, now feeling a little horrified by the socially painful scene, struggled to speak, “uh, oh… um…” the girl was still staring at him.

Looking between Scott and Stiles, Isaac reluctantly followed the latter to the stairs, leaving Scott to deal with his confused father.

“No, but really, who is she?” Isaac whispered to Stiles as they approached Scott’s room.

“I met her at Eichen house,” Stiles said.

“The… the asylum? Why were you at Eichen house?” Isaac said bewilderedly.

“Had myself committed, long story, either way we think she might know something,” Stiles said. “She hears things, anyways.”

“Great,” Isaac decided, that after all this time, he should just stop questioning things.

“Alright, Meredith. Sit down right here,” Stiles awkwardly sat the girl, Meredith, on the foot of Scott’s bed.

“Would she know where Lydia is if she’s with the Nogitsune?” Isaac asked.

“So not helping,” Stiles said. “Meredith, it is really important that you tell us where Lydia is.”

“I don’t know…” Meredith seemed to be thinking very hard but Isaac was just grateful that she was no longer staring at him.

Isaac folded his arms, following Stiles’ lead in just staring at her as she thought. Stiles began to pound his fists together nervously.

“Lydia,” Meredith spoke her name almost experimentally. Both boys nodded urgently in support. “You mean the red haired girl?”

“Yes!” Stiles said almost urgently. “Yes! Good, that’s progress!” He glanced towards Isaac for confirmation. “Now all you gotta do is tell us where she is.”

“Okay,” Meredith nodded, staring from him to Stiles. “If she tells me.”

Isaac frowned and Stiles seemed to short circuit.

“If… if she tells you?” Isaac asked. Isaac opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was an uncertain “uh…” he blinked. “Can you ask her?” He tried uncertainly.

“I already did,” Meredith said almost delightedly.

“Perfect. Perfect, what did she say?” Stiles urged her on.

“She said she doesn’t want to be found,” Meredith told them. Great. Just like the car message thing.

Stiles nodded erratically, his fists once again banging together.

“That’s good too,” Stiles said a little hopelessly. Isaac turned away from the girl, letting out a sigh of annoyance. “Come’re,” Stiles pulled him into Scott’s bathroom. “What do we do if she’s not telling us something?” He whispered.

“We’d need to get it out of her somehow otherwise…” Isaac didn’t finish his sentence.

“Dude,” Stiles seemed affronted by his words. “You can’t be serious.”

“What? If we don’t Lydia could get hurt,” Isaac whispered defensively. “I’m just saying-”

“Isaac, we are not going to torture her,” Stiles said exasperatedly.

“I meant scare her,” Isaac emphasized, leaning back onto the sink.

“We’re not going to psychologically torture her, either!” Stiles said almost scoldingly.

“Fine,” Isaac pouted. He thought of Lydia and the way she listened to rooms. What she heard when Barrow was at the school. “How about this, you said she hears things, right?” Isaac offered. “Doesn’t that mean she’s like Lydia? A banshee?” Isaac glanced between Stiles and Meredith as the former processed his words. Stiles looked tired. Worse than tired, he looked ill.

“So, we need her to scream?” Stiles said carefully.

“Like I said-”

“We’re not scaring her!” Stiles snapped. “Maybe we just need to get her to listen. Like Lydia does.”

“That’ll work too,” Isaac sighed.

“Okay, Meredith,” Stiles entered the bedroom and kneeled in front of her, Isaac crouching down by his side. “We’re gonna try this again.”

“Okay,” Meredith nodded, glancing between them a little uncertainly.

Stiles wrung his hands, always in motion, and continued, “okay, just try to focus on all the sounds around you. On what you’re hearing.” Meredith nodded seriously. “Just focus on the silence.”

“Listen to the silence,” Isaac added. She continued to glance between them a little nervously.

“Focus on the silence,” Stiles repeated.

Isaac nodded and followed in suit.“Listen to the si-”

“Okay, let me handle this, Isaac, please?” Stiles seemed to scold him again and for once Isaac listened. “I have more experience with Banshees,” Stiles said and Isaac found himself a little offended by his superiority complex.

Isaac nodded like he agreed before muttering, “yeah, and mental patients.” Stiles was about to snap back when Meredith interrupted.

“Is anyone going to get that?” She frowned.

The two boys glanced at one another in confusion.

“Get what?” Stiles asked her.

“The phone,” Meredith said, as if they were the crazy ones.

“What phone?” Stiles asked.

“The phone,” Isaac hit Stiles’ arm, pushing him to go along with it.

“Oh, the phone!” Stiles lied horribly, fumbling through his pockets for his unringing phone. “My phone? Yes!”

Isaac laughed nervously, wondering if even this crazy girl believed him.

Stiles held the silent phone up to his ear, “hello?”

Meredith nodded intently.

“Yes,” Stiles now was pretending to have a conversation. Isaac tried not to slap him and instead nodded along with his bullshit. “She’s actually sitting right here.”

Meredith nodded solemnly.

Stiles dramatically pointed at her and said, “it’s for you.” Before handing her the phone. Both boys shifted restlessly as she took it.

She listened to it with a formal intensity. She nodded slowly before pulling the phone away, “they say ‘Coup de foudre’.”

“Coup de what?” Stiles stammered. “What is that, spanish?”

Isaac blinked and made a few more noncommittal noises and ‘um’s in place of speech.

“French,” Scott said and they both jumped, turning to see Scott standing determinedly in the doorway. “It’s french,” he frowned. “I know where Lydia is.”

“What?” Stiles shot up.

“It’s from the story. Kira’s mom told us about the first time with the Nogitsune. They’re at the old camp,” Scott moved to leave.

“What story, and what camp?” Isaac asked bewilderedly.

“The specifics don’t matter, what matters is that Lydia is at an abandoned internment camp and we know where to find her,” Scott all but ran down the stairs. “I’ll call Allison, you deal with Meredith.”

“How do we do that?” Stiles called after him.

“I can take care of myself,” Meredith stood with the utmost confidence.

“I, uh,” Isaac began. “Honestly, Stiles, I think we should just let her take care of herself, we have more important things to worry about.”

“Right,” Stiles moved forward and awkwardly patted Meredith on the back. “Thank you so much for taking that phone call!”

Meredith moved towards Isaac with a sly grin.

“Yep. Thanks again, bye!” Isaac hurried after Stiles, not even bothering to ask her to leave Scott’s room or the McCall house.

Dusk was approaching.

Stiles scrambled to start his Jeep, as Isaac headed for the car, he felt jarred by the fact that Stiles now looked like a walking corpse. His skin yellowed and his eyes ringed with a painful looking purple. Scott climbed into the front seat and Isaac sat in the middle of the back, ignoring the dangerous speeds Stiles was reaching as they sped down the highway.

“How do you know where you’re going?” Isaac asked Scott.

“Kira asked her dad. She gave me the address. Well, the closest existing address you can get to an abandoned internment camp that was wiped off the map,” Scott explained.

“And this is where Lydia and the nogitsune will be?”

“Yep.”

“Great,” with a tired sigh, Isaac leaned back in the worn seats of the Jeep, which shook erratically under the intensive speeds.

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles eventually asked Scott, who had been staring at his friend worriedly, having noticed his disturbing appearance.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about me.” Scott said tensely.

“Alright, I’ll say it,” Isaac said bluntly. “You look like you’re dying.”

Scott stared back at him incredulously.

“You’re pale, thin, and you look like you’re getting worse,” Isaac continued, knowing there was no pretty way to say it. Regardless, there was a bitter taste in his mouth at the harsh truth to his words. “We’re all sitting here thinking it.” Isaac thought of the strange happenings he had missed. The other Stiles currently running around.

“When we find the other you, is he gonna look like he’s getting better?” Isaac asked the question no one else wanted to hear.

“What happens if he gets hurt?” Scott forced his own question out.

“What do you mean, like if he dies, do I die?” Stiles said dully. “I don’t care. Just so long as no one else dies because of me.” A conviction had overcome Stiles that Isaac had never expected to see. And despite everything, Isaac realized that the growing feeling towards Stiles he now had was respect.

Scott did not seem to be taking it as well.

“I remember everything I did, Scott,” Stiles insisted. “I remember pushing that sword into you. I remember twisting it,” Stiles’ voice trembled.

“It wasn’t you,” Scott muttered.

“Yeah, but I remember it,” Stiles said sharply. “You guys gotta promise me. You can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me,” Stiles seemed to speak directly to Isaac through the mirror, knowing that Scott could never promise that, and Isaac found himself forced to look away from those dying eyes.

Scott couldn’t bring himself to respond.

The roads grew bumpy and thick overgrowth swelled from the forested sides. Eventually, trees did not thin, but dark, looming concrete grew from the dusk gloom. The abandoned buildings stood eerily, their windows few and far between, the glass long since shattered.

A fitting scene.

Stiles’ headlights pierced the darkness on towering iron gates. Another car was already there and Allison and Kira were pacing with weapons in hand.  
Scott stopped before the gate, looking apprehensive, Stiles paced nervously from either foot. Isaac went right up to the threshold, looking forward with a resentful commitment. If Scott was going in there, so was he. For Lydia.

Isaac turned back to see the rest of his friends, his pack, standing apprehensively in a circle, he glanced from Scott to Allison to Stiles and Kira. He hated the truth of their fear.

Scott geared up for another speech, but his words sounded much more hesitant now, “we’ve done this before, guys,” he began shakily. “A couple of weeks ago we were standing around just like this,” he stared off into space, as if seeing his memories. “And we saved Malia, remember?” He looked to Allison.  
She nodded determinedly and Isaac felt his adoration for her grow.

“That was a total stranger,” Scott said. “This is Lydia.” He looked to Stiles, who, despite his sickly state and human body, looked just as determined as the rest of them.

“I’m here to save my best friend,” Allison said sharply. She looked torn between a battle cry and tears. Something that was so fiercely her.

“I came to save mine,” Scott looked to Stiles.

The tension between the group hung in the air like a funeral choir and Isaac was terrified of what it would mean if this state remained before they went marching in there. Isaac looked to Stiles, who he hadn’t realized they had counted on for some witty quip to break the mood.

“I just didn’t feel like doing any homework,” Isaac said with a shrug, deciding to take over Stiles’ duties while he was sick and unable to bring himself to do much besides stay conscious.

It had the desired effect. The tension broke into almost silent nervous chuckles and Isaac felt the breath he had been holding release. There was less mourning in the air now. Isaac decided that someone had to make the first move and turned, hands buried in his pockets, heading between the gates with grim certainty. There was no turning back now.

He heard the rest of them follow close behind and Isaac felt his confidence grow. They would do this. They would save everyone.

Ahead stood several dark figures and one human. Or, one Kitsune.

“Kira,” Mrs. Yukimura spoke formally to her daughter, her soldiers never leaving her side. “Turn around and go home,” she ordered.

Kira strode forward, sword in her left hand, and Allison notched an arrow to her left and Isaac kept up to her right. He would fight beside Allison.

“Take your friends with you,” Kira’s mother spoke almost patronizingly to the child warriors.

“I can’t,” Kira seemed to waver in defying her mother, but she held strong in her conviction. “When I looked at the game I realized who I was actually playing.”

Isaac, and Allison, had no idea what she was talking about. They let her keep talking.

“You,” Kira spoke almost accusingly.

Isaac heard Scott and Stiles’ footsteps fade as they ran to find Lydia.

Isaac could deal with a few more shadow demons. He was still slightly offended that they had decided to check him first for possession. Did he just give off that vibe? 

Isaac heard the smooth sound of an arrow sliding back from a bow.

“Call them off,” Allison returned an order, arrow loaded and aimed at the woman in front of them.

“You think you could take him alive?” Yukimura scoffed. “You think you could save him?”

So Stiles and the Nogitsune were connected. Isaac hated being right.

“What if we can?” Kira asked her.

“I tried something like that seventy years ago,” Yukimura said coldly. “Your friend is gone.

“Are you sure?” Kira stepped forward. “Or if Stiles doesn’t have to die, maybe Rhys didn’t have to die.”

These words seemed to strike her mother. She smiled grimly, the two oni by her side drawing their weapons.

“I see I’m no longer the fox, Kira,” she said. “You are. But the Nogitsune is my demon to bury.”

Isaac shifted agitatedly. Enough talk. His claws itched to come out.

Yet the Oni vanished. Isaac had a bad feeling that he knew exactly where they had gone.

Kira’s mother gasped, staring at a cloud of black smoke in her hands. The stern woman finally looked afraid.

“Mom,” Kira too seemed terrified.

“What is that?” Isaac asked. “What does it mean?” Something was very wrong.

“It means there’s been a change in ownership,” Stiles’ voice came from behind them but all three of them immediately knew that it was not Stiles.

The three of them whirled around to see that the Oni had simply gone to the other side of the courtyard. Between them, was a healthier looking version of Stiles.

“Now they belong to me,” the fake Stiles smirked. Isaac had never thought that that little loser would ever look threatening.

The oni’s swords were once again drawn and Isaac drew is own weapon of choice, claws growing from his nails and fangs filling his mouth.

Six oni. One Stiles. Well, two, technically. The sound of each of Kira’s strikes echoed through the courtyard as she faced two of the silent warriors. Isaac listened closely for the consistent whir of arrows from Allison. To know that she was still in the fight.

Isaac had to tuck underneath the blow without a weapon to block them. Isaac’s eyes remained golden as he put all of his energy into the slash of his claws.   
These creatures would not die. Isaac ducked underneath a flashing blade and leapt onto the creature’s chest. The primal side of him wasted time snarling and howling in its face before throwing it into the old cracked concrete. The got up without hesitation and Isaac had to keep his arms moving constantly to deflect blows and attempt to cut through their guts. If they had any.

With a faint whistle, an arrow pierced the oni coming at him from behind. Or at least Isaac thought it would. Instead, in a blur of motion, the warrior cut through the arrow seamlessly.

It cut deeply into Isaac’s chest just as seamlessly. Isaac blocked a second glow but was thrown back by a kick to the chest. Isaac tried to get to his feet, to defend himself, but he was too slow and-

And Allison was there, her bow raised over her head to block a sword that would have been fatal to him. With a fiery intensity that made Isaac more lovesick than afraid, she rammed her bow back, throwing the oni several feet away.

Isaac took his chance to scramble back to her side. Allison retreated away from him to launch more arrows at the assailants surrounding Kira. Kira was a whirl of kicks and swings of a sword, her own eyes glowed a far deeper orange to Isaac’s own yellow. Isaac saw two of the oni corner her and he moved to help but his own pair of demons had returned in full force. Isaac was already injured, his strength was waning. Theirs had not.  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yukimura, unarmed and defenseless. Isaac was more focused on the fact that she was partially responsible for this.

“How do we stop them?!” Isaac shouted to her after barely fending off the latest assault.

“You can’t!” The woman sounded so hopeless Isaac was terrified that she was right.

Isaac turned back, hearing another blade approach, but he was too late. With a muffled cry of pain the blade slid across his chest, hot blood now spraying out as he fell to his weakened knees.

He tried to stand but the pair would not relent, he could do nothing but dodge as many flashes of silver as possible. Which wasn’t enough, another blade dug deeply into his arm and his chest took another hit. Isaac let out another gasp of pain as Allison’s arrow grazed his arm in her attempt to aid him.

His legs seemed to give out beneath him as blood seeped heavily from too many open wounds and he hit the ground, his arms struggling to move due to the deep cuts that struggled to heal tore through tendons.

Isaac was going to die.

His own thoughts began to blur as the shadow before him raised its blade and Isaac knew it would bury itself in his neck.

He did his best. For Lydia. For Stiles. For Scott. For Allison.

Peace.

Until an arrow landed in the Oni’s chest.

And stopped it.

Blinding yellowed green light burst from the wound as the creature was forced to stop in it’s track, sword that had been destined to end Isaac’s life instead clattered to the ground.

Isaac cowered away as shock waves radiated from the body now decaying into the air. He covered his eyes as black smoke washed over him. And dissipated. Isaac, his wounds still struggling to recover, managed to comprehend the fact that somehow, Allison had killed it.

The oni vanished and so did Stiles. Isaac shifted back into human form, elation now overtaking him instead of fear. He would heal, maybe slowly, but he would live. Isaac, knowing his legs were too damaged to stand, instead turned to ask Allison how she had done it.

Wait.

Isaac couldn’t think.

Why was Scott holding her?

Why was she bleeding?

Isaac couldn’t move.

He was incapable of standing and he wasn’t sure if it was physical or mental because Allison was hurt. There was something very wrong. There was too much blood pooling from the wound in her gut and she wouldn’t heal like they did so she would-

No. This wasn’t happening. Isaac couldn’t comprehend that maybe…

That maybe she was…

No. No, she was okay. They were just talking. She and Scott, they were talking while they waited. While they waited for help.

But why was there blood coming out of her mouth?

Why was her body shuddering like that?

Why was-

Isaac heard her heart stop.

He didn’t hear the desperate, hushed words exchanged between Allison and Scott, but he heard the silence that followed.

There was only one heartbeat coming from that direction and from the way it pounded inside of it’s shaking host, it had to be Scott.

Because Allison-

Isaac still couldn’t move, he cowered away from the reality he was now faced with and now the least painful thing about him was the wounds marring his body.

Because she was-

Isaac curled tightly into a ball, holding himself as blood continued to seep through his fingers but his eyes stayed locked on the ground swimming before him because if he looked at her one more time that would mean that this was all real.

Another person arrived. Isaac was dully aware of Argent’s presence and the fact that the man was collapsed against the gate, unable to deal with the fact that he and Isaac both knew but would refuse to name.

That Allison was- that she was-

Isaac did not move. His eyes remained fixed on the ground.


	37. Chapter 37

“Isaac?” Kira, while shaken, was the only one capable of pushing through this. She was not drowning in shock like the rest of them, so she now stood next to 

Isaac’s curled in body and spoke to him. “We can’t stay here, are you still hurt?”

Isaac didn’t respond, and not just because he was entirely unaware of the state of his injuries, but because all he could hear and think and comprehend was the girl laying limply in front of Scott.

He stood on wounded legs, blood still seeping from the gashes every time he put weight on it, and approached the silent Allison, dazed and uncomprehending. There was blood roaring in his ears and Kira’s words were muffled as Isaac stumbled forward towards the broken body lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. It had stopped rushing out of her gut when her heart stopped pumping it. Scott was sobbing, his breathing coming out in hysterical, unsteady gasps, as he let go of her body and instead curled inward, tearing at his own hair, eyes wide in panic.

Isaac collapsed to his knees beside her body. Her eyes were still open. His knees were soaked in the blood he was kneeling in as well as his own wounds. Isaac reached out with a trembling hand and gently brushed over her delicate eyelids. People always said when you shut the eyes it just looked like the dead was sleeping. Isaac didn’t see it. She wasn’t sleeping with a wound in her gut and her breathless chest unmoving.

Isaac knew she was dead and therefore everything he did from this point on meant nothing, but he still found himself stroking her hair. His eyes, slightly glassy, pored over her unmoving face. Blood still covered the inside of her lips and her mouth was parted slightly. She was still beautiful in death, but only in spite of it, not because of it. Isaac swallowed his own rising sobs and focused on slowly petting her hair, his hand brushing against her soft, brown locks with reverence. He was so gentle with her. That in itself was a tragedy. Blinded by grief, and all he could be was gentle.

“Come on, son,” Argent spoke for the first time since his arrival, he was helping the inconsolable Scott to his feet.

“Isaac, please, Mr. Argent says we need to leave. It isn’t safe here,” Kira tried to urge him to his feet but Isaac hardly seemed to hear her.

“Isaac, there isn’t time for this,” Argent now stood by Isaac’s shoulder, holding onto it firmly in an attempt to ground him. “You need to get up and we need to go to the Sheriff’s station. You can’t fall apart yet.”

He sounded so cold. His daughter was lying dead at his feet and he seemed to feel nothing.

“Get up, Isaac,” Argent began to pull Isaac to his feet on trembling legs. “Are you injured?” He noticed the bloodied and tattered clothes Isaac wore as well as the wounds that struggled to heal from the oni’s blade.

Isaac nodded numbly and allowed Argent to firmly guide his shuffling form towards the car. He had almost stopped feeling when his heart shattered all over again.

“Allison!” A terrible shriek tore through the desolate courtyard and Isaac turned to see Lydia lay Stiles on the ground and run to her best friend’s side. Isaac could tell, just from the way she stopped, standing and staring at the body, that she had known the moment the breath had left her chest.

Lydia did not scream again. She just got down on her knees, dust and dirt pressing into her tights and coating her skirt, and she brushed against her best friend’s face, tears falling from a face marred with shock.

“Come on, Isaac. Your turn,” Argent muttered.

“What?” Isaac choked out the word.

“Come on, son. Pull yourself together. You have to focus,” Argent gripped his shoulders tightly, forcing Isaac to look at him. “We’ll need to explain the body and the three of you must be in agreement, do you understand?”

Isaac’s eyes seemed far away. Lydia had known the moment she had died. She hadn’t been able to stop it-

“Isaac,” Argent shook him sharply. “Listen to me. You were with Scott, Lydia, and Allison. The men wore masks and came up to the car,” Argent spoke slowly.

“How can you do this…?” Isaac mumbled blearily.

“Isaac, repeat it. You were with Scott, Lydia and Allison. You weren’t sure what you were going to do, but men tried to steal the car,” Argent said again.

“We were just… and they tried to steal the car…” Isaac attempted to repeat it.

Argent seemed to think it was good enough. “You think one of them had a knife but you aren’t sure. And Scott called me first,” Argent said grimly.

“I think…?”

“If you ever don’t know what to say, just say it happened so fast. Do not change your story, do you understand me, Isaac?” Argent said forcefully. Isaac nodded. “Tell me again, Isaac.”

“I was with my friends,” Isaac started, his tone hollowed. “These guys tried to steal our car. I think one of them had a knife. Allison got hurt,” Isaac choked on the truth. “Scott called Mr. Argent.”

“We’ll have to explain your wounds. So you’ll have to be more detailed, Isaac,” Argent pushed. “You tried to get in the way. They slashed at you. Allison tried to stop them.”

“I tried to get in the way. They started cutting at me,” that part wasn’t hard. It wasn’t a lie. “Allison tried to save me.”

“Now, come on son. You’re not done yet,” Argent’s voice trembled but that was the only sign he gave that what he had to do next affected him.

Argent finally approached his daughter’s body. “We’ll put her in her car. Park it on the way downtown, but away from cameras.” He picked her up so delicately, holding her as she was. His child in his arms. “You and Scott need to get Stiles. Tell Kira and her mother to take him to their home. He doesn’t need to be there. The three of you will suffice.”

Isaac walked, ghostlike, over to Stiles’ unconscious body that Lydia had somehow managed to drag out of the abandoned building. Scott pulled his best friend’s arm around his shoulder.

“Come on, buddy,” Scott’s voice still trembled with sobs even after his own briefing from Argent. “You gotta be okay. Please, you gotta be okay.”

Isaac took Stiles’ other side and as they approached Mrs. Yukimura's car he stirred in their arms.

“Something’s wrong…” Stiles mumbled. “I feel it… what happened…?”

Scott and Isaac did not look at each other. Nor did they tell the broken boy between them about the corpse that lay behind them.

Stiles leaned onto the side of the car, Kira supporting him so the boys could let go.

“Is she okay?” Stiles said tiredly.

Isaac felt a lump form in his throat.

“Is Lydia okay? Did we save her?” Stiles asked. Then he looked up. And he saw the pool of blood scarring the ground and he saw Argent place Allison in the back seat of her car. “Someone’s got to take her to the hospital…” Stiles almost slurred his words. “Why aren’t we hurrying? That’s a lot of blood, so stop worrying about me, worry about her…”

Scott let out a haggard sob, covering his mouth and gripping the metal of the car with a terrible attempt to ground himself.

“Scott…?” Stiles sounded afraid. Terrified. Stiles turned from his distraught friend and looked to Isaac for answers, but Isaac knew from the unfiltered horror shining from Stiles’ eyes that he knew.

Allison didn’t need to go to the hospital.

“No no no, no, no…” Stiles’ back slid down the side of the car and his knees pressed up to his chest. He buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled wail.

“Scott, Isaac, the longer we wait, the more suspicious it will seem,” Argent had guided Lydia away from the spot where Allison had died and had given her the same debriefing.

Scott somehow managed to walk across the courtyard to Argent’s side and Isaac somehow managed to follow.

“I’ll drive Allison’s car. Once we get to the location, I will call the police. You three will follow me in my car,” Argent said coldly.

It was a mercy in itself that Argent had volunteered himself to drive the car with his dead child laying in the back seat. Blood had already stained the cushions black.

“None of you are fit to drive. Kira can-”

“I’ll do it,” Scott said. His voice strong despite the tremors of grief still radiating through him.

“Scott, you can’t possibly be in a fit state,” Argent said, despite remaining perfectly stable when faced with the last death of his family.

“I’ll drive,” Scott took the keys without another word and headed for Argent’s car.

Isaac turned to Lydia, his mouth parted slightly, but no words could come out. Lydia, with raw shock still grated, unmoving, onto her features, looked back and through this there came a certain understanding.

They had to do this. Then they could truly suffer later.

Scott drove steadily. Turmoil unexpressed through his speed or caution as he followed Allison’s car- Argent’s. Now it was Argent’s car- to a street leading to the railyards. Close enough to teenage hangouts for it not to seem out of place but far enough from security cameras that the staging of the scene would not exist.

They stopped a few yards from Allison’s car and Argent called the police station.

Now they just had to wait. To spin their grief into a practical little lie.

The werewolves heard sirens long before they saw them and almost too soon they were surrounded by flashing lights and concerned officers. Two squad cars and an ambulance hours too late.

“You alright, son? Are you hurt?” A young deputy, tried to get his attention.

Isaac, unable to speak, just shook his head vaguely and pointed to Allison’s car.

“You’re bleeding. You were attacked?” She pushed.

“I- I was-” Isaac couldn’t speak beyond hushed and stammered half words.

“Let me take a look,” the woman moved to take off his jacket.

“Don’t touch me,” Isaac said sharply.

“Can you come over to the ambulance for me, son? You could be in a world of hurt if we don’t get those cuts checked out,” she said firmly.

Isaac didn’t have the life left in him to resist. He was too tired.

“God,” the EMT couldn’t help but mutter as he took in the wounds scattered across Isaac’s body.

Isaac hardly flinched as the man dabbed alcohol onto his wounds, but he did flinch once a gurney covered by a blue tarp was wheeled past him and into the bed of the ambulance.

“I’m fine,” Isaac said softly, pulling away before the man could finish wrapping gauze around his forearm.

Words were exchanged with Argent and the three kids were ushered into the back of a squad car.

“It’s gonna be alright, kids. We’ll just need to take some statements. Then you can all go home,” the officer driving told the three of them. None of them replied to the bold faced lie.

“Wait here. Do you need us to call your parents?” The deputy told them as they sat, shell shocked, outside of the sheriff's office.

Lydia replied for all of them by shaking her head.

“Sheriff Stilinski will talk to you shortly to hear what you remember, okay?” She said.

Another nod.

“Do any of you need to talk to someone? To talk over how you’re feeling?” She obviously couldn’t bring herself to simply say ‘grief counselor’ in the face of how recent the tragedy was.

None of them replied.

“I’ll be right over here if you need me,” she returned to her desk.

None of them spoke. 

“Where’s my son?!” The front door slammed and Sheriff Stilinski came rushing inside, almost shouting at Parrish.

“He’s okay,” Scott croaked out. “He… wasn’t there. When they stabbed her,” Scott said numbly.

“Scott. Could you come into my office?” The sheriff took one look at the pain shared between the three of them and his voice immediately softened.  
Scott left the two of them and joined Stilinski and his deputy in the office.

Dawn was coming.

Lydia had almost unconsciously moved closer to him. Her head drooped towards his shoulder and Isaac realized she was crying. Sobbing and attempting to muffle it in the sleeve of Isaac’s jacket. His arm wrapped around her and held her close, feeling emptied of all feeling as Lydia broke down into his shoulder.  
They spoke to Scott for maybe a half hour.

“Lyd-” Stilinski stopped, looking at the trembling redhead in front of him. “Isaac. Maybe you should go next.”

“I can go,” Lydia said firmly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Scott rejoined Isaac and they sat in silence, arms brushing against one another, trapped in their own pain.

“Isaac,” some time later, the sheriff returned for him.

Isaac sat hunched over in the office, early morning light pouring in. Allison had died before this sunrise.

“I know this is hard for you, Isaac,” Deputy Parrish said from the other side of the desk, the sheriff leaning against the wall beside him. “I just need you to try and go over what happened last night. Best you can.”

“It… it’s sort of blurred,” Isaac spoke in half truths. “One minute I thought I was going to die, and then- then Allison…” Isaac clenched his jaw, refusing to crack now. 

“Isaac, could you describe your attackers for us?” Parrish asked him after he had a moment to collect himself.

“There were two of them, but they wore masks,” Isaac said. There had been eight of them, maybe more, and they too had worn masks.

“Were they armed?”

“One of them had a knife. I know that for sure,” Isaac said.

“Did they say anything? A name, perhaps?”

“No, just that they wanted to take the car,” Isaac told him. Lying felt so easy now that the truth was so raw within him.

“What happened then?” Parrish pushed.

“I… I’m not sure. I think I stepped forward. I was so scared that they were going to hurt someone,” Isaac lied. But he had been scared. Terrified, that Lydia was in danger. That one of them would die. “One of them started slashing at me with the knife and-and she-” Isaac stopped. He did not let out the sob that yearned to rise out of him. He remained still.

The sheriff sat down next to him, a comforting hand placed on his shoulder.

“Can you remember anything else?” Parrish asked.

Isaac refused. He would not tell them about watching her die.

“Anything else?” Parrish asked again. “Isaac?” He could not talk about the sight of blood pouring out of her gut.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac’s voice came out as no more than a whisper. “It just happened so fast.”

“Alright, son. You did your best,” Stilinski helped him to his feet and sent him out to the others.

“We’ll tell you the truth soon,” Isaac whispered so only he would hear.

Stilinski nodded slightly, his arm gripping Isaac’s shoulder tightly. In a way that grounded him.

Argent sat at the desk of another officer, making his own report with his head in his hands.

“I… I gotta go,” Scott said. Isaac kept staring at the crumbling man before him. “Isaac?”

“You do what you have to do. I’m… I’m gonna go with Argent,” Isaac murmured.

Scott, normally would’ve asked Isaac if he was okay, or told him something along the lines of ‘we can do this’ or ‘everything will work out’. Instead he just gave Isaac a quick, shaky hug and left. Lydia having disappeared to grieve alone during Isaac’s report.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Argent,” the deputy told him, as Argent seemed to shake with grief into his hands.

“Thank you,” Chris got to his feet, then, seeming surprised. “Isaac. Do you need a ride home?”

“No… I… I want to go back with you. You’re going… home, right?” Isaac said quietly. “I need to go back with you.”

Argent nodded slowly, some form of understanding developing behind his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, an arm around Isaac’s back guiding him outside.

Once they left the sheriff’s department, Isaac noticed that the weakened, grieving father, collapsed into his own hands, vanished almost immediately. Into something harder, colder.

“You were faking,” Isaac’s mouth felt strangely dry.

“Of course I was faking. They were expecting a grieving father, not a soldier who still had battles to win,” Argent said tersely.

“I sort of thought you were both,” Isaac said, unsure of what he intended to gain from this.

“I am,” Argent said stiffly. The cold tension in the car from Isaac’s criticism was palpable. Enough so that Isaac’s old fear, which he found much harder to bottle down, caused his shoulders to hunch forward and his stomach to flutter with nerves.

He had thought he had gone numb with grief, yet fear remained.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac mumbled.

“Don’t be.”

Isaac wasn’t sure if he believed him.

Isaac followed Argent into the lobby of the apartment building, his heart aching with the fact that Allison had walked through these halls less than twenty four hours ago.

The elevator seemed to move particularly slowly as Isaac hunched over away from Argent.

He felt something crumble inside of him as they faced the door to the apartment.

Isaac inhaled softly. It smelled like her. Isaac felt the lump that had lingered in his throat grow painfully. It hurt physically, the pain of her presence.  
Argent unlocked his front door unwaveringly and entered the threshold. Isaac noticed the slightest of hesitations as Argent entered his home. Isaac might’ve found that comforting if not for the sudden sledgehammer to the chest that was reentering the place that weighed so heavily with her.

Isaac couldn’t hold back any longer. Sobs forced their way out as Isaac stood, hunched, cowering inward, in the darkened hallway of the Argent apartment. He hugged his own body tightly, his jacket, given to him by the McCalls, was tattered. As was the flesh beneath it.

“I appreciate the concern, but you don’t have to stay,” Argent’s voice came out choked with emotion. He contained it far better than Isaac did. “I’ll be alright.”

Isaac stared at his back, as Argent refused to face him.

“I’ve dealt with this before,” Argent seemed to struggle with his own words. Argent turned around, uncertain and hesitant for the first time in Isaac knowing him. He moved to open the door for Isaac, who remained unmoving and shuddering with sobs, raw shock seemed permanently grated on his face. “I’ve developed an ability to compartmentalize my emotions.”

Isaac struggled to form words, forcing out a soft and desperate, “I don’t,” while staring pleadingly at the only man who understood how he felt and was stable enough to deal with this broken mess of a boy before him.

Argent stared into his eyes for a moment, grief finally unmasked as they realized together that she was never coming home.

Chris pulled Isaac forward into a tight hug. One far less soft that Melissa’s, but one grounding and desperately needed all the same. Isaac collapsed forward, the weight unmoving from his chest, but a stability nonetheless.

She was never coming home.


	38. Chapter 38

“You stay as long as you need to, Isaac,” Argent pulled away, turning around so the boy wouldn’t see him wipe his eyes. It was also the nicest thing Argent had ever said to Isaac, really.

Despite these kind words, Argent quickly left Isaac standing in the dark entryway, shutting the door to his study sharply behind him.

The silence permeating the apartment was deafening.

Isaac stood with his body hunched inward as far as he could make it, feeling no need to move from this spot in the darkened room.

But every breath smelled of her. Especially the room to the right of the lounge. Her room. Isaac found himself inextricably drawn to it, despite how it hurt him far more than the wounds which remained open and sore due to the curses that seemed to come from his own grief as much as whatever dark magic was inlaid in the oni’s blade.

He was stopped short in the doorway with a shuddering inhale. Her room was untouched. Isaac knew it made sense, but somehow the fact that this place remained the same seemed unfair in the face of what had happened. Her bed was half made, like she had thrown the blankets on them in a hurry. She hadn’t been here since the night before last. She had slept at Scott’s the night before last. God, it felt like it had been forever and also only a moment.  
Isaac brushed his hands against her dresser. There, amidst piles of makeup, were knives and arrows. Just as the posters covering her walls had famous archers mixed with singers. He eventually sat on her bed, breathing in the scent of her which lingered in the sheets. He curled onto her blankets, burying his face in the pillow he knew she used, breathing in all that was left of her between shuddering sobs.

Isaac did not know if he slept then from sheer exhaustion or from his body’s attempts to repair his wounds. All he knew was that when he finally woke it was once again dark outside. He stared around her darkened bedroom with bitterness. None of this was fair. And he couldn’t keep sitting here and doing nothing.  
Isaac found himself drawn to the hilt of a ring dagger which rested on her bed side table in place of where a normal teenage girl would put her phone or glasses. The knife held so much history for him. As if he had resentment left to harbor against someone he could only love. It twirled between his fingertips and all his mind could do was return to the moment she had died.

Th blurred memory of her last shuddering breaths. How desperate and urgent her words had been. He had not registered them at the time, all he had was a vague awareness that something was wrong, but now… now despite the pain he could think.

‘You have to tell my dad… you have to tell him…’

She had never gotten to say goodbye to him. Isaac had to be the one to tell him, he thought as he twirled the blade between his fingertips, brushing them against the edge of the blade with no more fear of pain.

“Careful,” Argent had entered the room as well. “That one takes some practice.” Isaac, with an unsteady sigh, handed the weapon to him. Argent stood by the window, seeming deep in thought. “When Allison was learning she had to bandage her fingers because they got so raw.”

“She kept trying to say something,” Isaac whispered.

“What’s that?”

“She kept trying to say something to Scott,” Isaac continued softly. “You have to tell him, she said,” he stopped and sniffed, holding back another outbreak of tears. Argent joined him on the bed. “You have to tell my father…” He drifted off, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “She didn’t get a chance to finish it but I’m sure it was just that she loved you.”

Argent’s lip seemed to quiver but he bit on them to stop the display of weakness. “It’s okay,” he replied just as softly, attempting to soothe the boy who would not stop weeping beside him. “It’s okay, she made a point of telling me earlier.”

“Earlier?” Isaac asked between shuddering breaths as he tried to steady himself, eyes boring holes into the floor.

“There’s a tradition we have,” Argent began, Isaac immediately remembered the bullet clutched in her fist the night she went into the ice.

“The silver bullet,” he murmured.

“She was making a silver arrow head,” Argent told him. He handed Isaac the knife once again, before giving him a steady pat on the back, such a fatherly habit, and standing to leave Isaac to his mourning, blade and all.

Yet something didn’t compute quite right for Isaac. Not that she had made a silver arrowhead, that was very much her, but the fact that despite having told her father goodbye before she had needed so desperately to tell him one last thing. Allison was not one to waste words, especially such vital ones.

He stared at the blade in his hands, a web of thoughts linking together in his exhausted mind. A silver arrowhead. Something had stopped the oni that night.

“Where is it?” He said sharply. Argent stopped and stared at him. “The arrowhead?”

Argent paused, thinking, “downstairs.”

Isaac stood, heart now racing, purpose now roiling with his grief into something vengeful. “I need to see it.”

Argent didn’t move so Isaac pushed past him, assuming the man would follow.

“Why?” Argent came out of his daze and asked him, his brow furrowed.

Isaac paused and articulated his answer, “because I have a feeling it isn’t there.”

Argent followed him to the elevator, Isaac tapping his foot impatiently as they headed to the basement where tenants rented storage units.

“What do you think we’ll find?” Argent asked.

“I’ll explain when we see for ourselves, I just… have a feeling,” Isaac said quietly. “Allison was smart. She had to be saying something more. Especially if she already said her goodbyes. I think…” Isaac was cut off by the gentle ding of the elevator stopping in the lobby. Which they cut across to a stairwell to the underbelly of the building. Argent took the lead to a space marked off in fencing, he flipped an old light switch causing a single bulb to illuminate a worn table scattered with weapons and tools and what appeared to be an incredibly small forge. Argents.

He pulled aside fabric to reveal four arrowheads, gleaming in a row.

“Why would she make four of these?” Argent asked.

“She didn’t,” Isaac corrected, his mouth suddenly very dry. “She made five.” Isaac’s voice shook. “She made the first one, then she figured it out.” Isaac felt swept back into the moment when the oni, so close to killing him, was stopped so violently by one of her arrows. “She used the first silver arrowhead to kill one of the Oni. We saw her do it,” he said insistently.

“How?” Argent asked.

Isaac had thought about that too. “The same way you almost did,” he said. “Do you remember when you told us about one of your first gun deals, the Yakuza?”

“That meeting wasn’t one of my first deals,” Argent said coldly. Both of them seemed desperate to distract themselves from her presence. “It was my first deal.”

“The bullet that you used to shoot the Oni, was that a silver bullet?” Isaac asked.

“Yes,” Argent seemed heavily with emotion at the fact that his daughter was saving them even now. Reality sunk in, “but it didn’t kill him, it just broke his mask.”

Isaac, whose mind had gone into overdrive in an attempt to focus on anything besides how empty he felt, had thought of an answer for that too, “probably went straight through,” Isaac frowned. He thought of wolfsbane. The fire that formed in the blood. “What if silver is like a poison to them? What if it needs to stay in the body?” He looked away from the arrowheads that remained of her and turned to Argent, “what if that’s what she was trying to tell Scott?” He got closer to the man who seemed so distant. “What if that’s what she was trying to tell you, that she’d figured it out?” He said insistently. Maybe no one else had to die.

“These four were still setting when she went off to meet Scott,” Argent said, his hands brushing against his daughter’s craftsmanship.

“We can stop them,” Isaac spoke, words hushed with fear. Fear of hope after pain.

“No,” Argent turned bitter, lip curling into something animalistic. “We can kill them.”

“My phone,” Isaac muttered, searching his pockets. “We have to tell Scott.”

He had several missed calls and messages from him, the most recent reading:

‘He’s at the school. We’re going to try and finish this. You don’t have to come, just take care of yourself’

It was sent almost a half hour before and Isaac felt a swoop of anxiety come to him.

“We need to get to the school. Now,” Isaac said.

Argent said nothing, but instead grabbed a crossbow and began fitting the arrowheads to their shafts. Isaac helped him do the same. “We only have four,” Argent muttered.

“We’ll make them count. Allison had to get her skill from somewhere,” Isaac said, arrows in hand as they returned to the stairwell.

“She had something she couldn’t inherit from me or my wife,” Argent sighed, holding the crossbow with a heartbroken fondness.

“All I know is that they’re at the school, I don’t know where or how many oni are there or if…” Isaac faded off, unable to bring himself to say the words ‘or if everyone is okay’. Isaac spent the rest of the drive searching through Scott’s messages, discovering, with a racing heart, that Scott and Derek had found a box made of the nemeton that could trap the nogitsune forever.

The moment they pulled into the deserted parking lot, the fight was easy to pinpoint. The sounds of snarls and metal whirling through the air echoed from the courtyard. Isaac and Argent ran to the sound, Argent notching and firing a bolt in one swift motion. Shouts of fear and pain echoed. The twins and Derek. Isaac flipped down into the concrete arena bellow them as an oni burst into a field of light.

“What was that?” A bloodied Aiden asked.

“Silver,” Argent said, some sense of pride seemed to emerge. Not for them, but for his clever daughter.

“Isaac, the box! Get the triskele box to Scott!” Derek shouted to him urgently.

Isaac, without a second thought, sprinted forward and grabbed the cylinder of wood from the ground, sprinting towards the school, the faint scent of Scott and his pack guiding him.

Isaac entered to see an unusual scene. A second Stiles - presumedly the demon, as the other Stiles clung to Lydia - was seizing violently, the choked groans of a dying animal coming from its shuddering mouth.

A firefly evacuated its lips and Isaac, without thinking or pausing, lunged forward and slammed it’s feebly glowing body into the box. His actions, based on instinct in that moment, seemed to have been right. As the shell of the old body cracked like clay and shattered into grey dust. Before dissipating.  
Isaac didn’t even have the heart to feel relieved.

“That’s what I was supposed to do, right?” Isaac asked weakly.

No one replied as they were to distracted by the real Stiles, who slid from Lydia’s side to the floor. No. They couldn’t lose anyone else.

“Support his head!” Lydia all but shrieked and Scott took of his jacket, laying it underneath his fallen friend.

“Does he have a pulse?” Isaac asked shakily.

Kira grabbed onto his wrist, nodding with a sigh of relief. The two girls got down on their knees beside him as Scott sat anxiously next to his head. Isaac hovered behind them, the simple wooden jar clutched in his hands tightly.

After what felt like an eternity, Stiles’ eyes fluttered open, “oh god, I fainted, didn’t I?” He muttered resentfully, causing relieved and anxious chuckles to come from the survivors. Stiles took in their faces carefully. “We’re alive? We are all alive?” He said it as a question. Looking to Scott for confirmation.

Scott seemed to struggle to answer, “yeah. We’re okay.” He said softly, but like he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

Stiles sighed and Isaac couldn’t tell if he was hurt or relieved by their predicament.

Lydia stood slowly, turning to face the empty hallway with that dreamlike slowness they had all grown familiar with.

Then she took off running and before any of them could process what was happening Stiles was somehow on his feet sprinting after her. The werewolves and Kira soon followed.

Someone was down. Another sobbing over their body. Derek and Argent stood back meaning…

It was Aiden.

They could tell their scents by now and both werewolves immediately knew Aiden had stopped breathing and the stench of sorrow came from Ethan clutching his body.

Lydia had known too. She always knew and she sobbed into Stiles’ shoulder.

Derek moved forward and spoke quietly to Ethan.

“No!” Ethan shouted hysterically when Derek moved close to Aiden’s body.

“We should move him, Ethan,” Derek said.

“Don’t touch him. Please don’t,” Ethan clung to his twin’s lifeless body like it was a lifeline.

“Come on, son. You gotta get up. Let me take you home,” Argent actually tore Ethan away from the limp bloodied form.

“Where?!” Ethan snarled. “I don’t have a family! I have nowhere to go!” He barely resisted the hunter’s arm.

“You’ll come with me, Ethan,” Derek told him. “We owe you a lot. We won’t abandon you.”

Isaac didn’t even have the heart to feel resentment towards Derek for opening his arms to Ethan after abandoning him.

“Come on, Ise,” Scott said quietly after a few more hushed words with Stiles. “Let’s go home.”

Isaac numbly followed Scott to his bike, abandoning Stiles and the weeping Lydia, the hysterical former twin and the grieving father, the unsure alpha and the broken body to their fate.

“You’re still holding that,” Scott said.

Isaac stared down at his pale hands, knuckles tense as they refused to let go of the wooden box which held the thing responsible for so much misery.

“I’m not gonna stop,” Isaac said quietly.

“I gotta… I gotta call my mom,” Scott choked up again before pulling out his phone and dialing with trembling fingers. “It said something. About the hospital and I gotta know if she’s okay.”

Isaac could hear the conversation taking place, but his eyes remained locked on the object of his misery. Loathing rising within him for the little wooden jar’s contents.

“We’re okay. We’re okay, are you?” Scott said urgently.

‘I’m alright,’ Isaac heard Melissa reply. ‘Hurt my leg, but I’ll be fine,’ Melissa seemed to waver, static coming through the receiver before a far more emotional tone replied, ‘please come home, baby. Both of you.’

“We’ll be there soon mom, I promise,” Scott said.

Isaac hesitates before getting on the bike. “Do you… do you have a bag I can keep this in?”

“No, uh. Wrap it in my jacket,” Scott handed him the coat. “Keep it between us. Maybe Argent…?”

“I don’t care. I’m keeping it,” Isaac said a little harshly. He was terrified to let go. To let this thing do any more damage and some part of him feared that in a misguided revenge attempt Argent would accidentally let it go.

Scott nodded slowly, seeming understanding. Once the triskele box was securely tied up in Scott’s jacket to Isaac’s stomach, he got on the bike.  
As they rode home in the dead of night, somehow managing to leave behind friends and a dead body, Scott’s bike seemed to swerve and Isaac felt him tremble with sobs.

Isaac, arms already wrapped around Scott’s waist, held tighter. He hugged him as best he could with that thing still resting innocently between them.  
Scott stopped jarringly in his unsteady state. Melissa’s car - and Agent McCall’s - were both parked outside the house.

Scott staggered off of his bike, Isaac following closely, cradling the box to his chest.

“Mom!” Scott all but ran to her. Melissa, despite a heavily bandaged left leg, stood to embrace her son, Mr. McCall standing awkwardly behind the greeting.

“I’m so sorry, Scott,” Melissa held into him tightly as he buried his head in her hair.

Isaac stood alone, uncertain except for the thing he held onto like a lifeline.

He was vaguely aware of Mr. McCall leaving and only returned to reality when Melissa approached him.

“Isaac?” She said quietly.

“It’s in here,” Isaac felt the need to tell her.

“What is, Isaac?” She asked.

“The thing that killed her,” he said, voice trembling.

Melissa stopped short of another question. Because how could you respond to that?

“Can I hug you?” She asked gently. Melissa usually didn’t need to ask with Isaac. He was comfortable with her. But after everything, she had to ask.

Isaac nodded and melted into Melissa’s arms. Her arms could not reach his shoulders so she simply wrapped her arms around his torso and allowed him to tremble silently.

“Scott, baby, come here,” Melissa called to her son who joined them.

She had an arm around either boy, both so much bigger than her yet far more fragile.

“You’re okay,” Melissa said softly, her hands reaching as far as they could go to brush gently through their hair. “I know it hurts. I can’t make it feel better, but you’ll be okay, I promise.”

Scott sobbed openly, sinking forward into his mother’s arms. Isaac, while desperate for a kind touch, remained motionless. He felt hollowed out inside.

“Do you think either of you might be able to sleep?” She asked.

“I… I want to,” Scott said uncertainly.

“Isaac?” She asked, arm gently rubbing his arm.

“Yeah,” he barely recalled the question.

“Maybe we should put that somewhere…?” She reached for the jar, unsure of how to treat it.

“No,” Isaac said more sharply than he intended. “I… I can’t let go of it.”

“Okay, Isaac. That’s okay,” Melissa led her boys upstairs. Her heart ached for Allison as well, she had been such a kind girl, but they needed her to be stable.

Scott immediately was about to enter his own bedroom before stopping short with a gasp.

“Scott?” Melissa checked him carefully.

“Can’t sleep in there,” Scott muttered and Isaac immediately understood.

The room still smelled of her.

“Come on,” Isaac held the jar in one hand and the other guided Scott to his own room.

Scott curled onto the left side of the bed, fully dressed and still weeping quietly.

Melissa sat on the side of the bed, stroking his hair as he cried. Isaac took off his jacket and sat on the other side of the bed, staring down at the box in his hands once again. Isaac wanted to scream. He wanted to break down and wail for all his losses. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do anything besides force shuddering breaths in and out from his aching chest.

“Lay down, Isaac. You can keep holding onto the box, if you’d like,” Melissa said softly.

Isaac, laid with his back to the McCall’s his body curled around the Nogitsune’s prison. Melissa laid down between them, brushing through both of their hair and murmuring soothing words.

That was how they slept. Isaac's wounds would only finish healing deep into that night. Both boys almost unconsciously moved closer to her, yearning for comfort from the pain inside of them, and Melissa stayed. She would stay as long as they wanted her.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left after this on book one...

Isaac felt suffocated. Boxed in. Claustrophobic.

Not from the walls feeling too close or a door being locked behind him, but by everything. Everything around him seeped in through his pores and reminded him, as cruelly as possible, that Allison was dead.

“Isaac? Where are you going?” Scott asked from his spot on the couch. He had not changed his clothes two days. Neither of them had gone to school or done much of anything. Scott had refused to see his friends and Isaac had denied Melissa’s request to 

“I can’t stay here right now,” Isaac said. He had not showered in as many days but had forced himself to change into jeans and a sweater. His usual scarf was accompanied by a leather messenger bag which contained the wooden jar which had never left his side. Argent had said that he was leaving soon. For France where it could be locked up for good. Until then, Isaac would not let go of it.

Isaac walked the streets of Beacon Hills, his head down as a light drizzle fell around him. He didn’t know where he was going.  
He had left the house but the air still seemed too thick. He tried to walk faster. As if this feeling were something he could run away from.  
His feet had moved on autopilot. So that when he looked up he was in the last and only place he could’ve wound up. Home. Not home, but it was the Lahey house by name.

The yard had become so overgrown that the forclosed sign, which had cropped up after his dead father neglected to pay the mortgage, was hardly visible. It had been what, two months since he had last entered the house? Everything felt different now.

Isaac did not have room in his heart for fear of his past. He was just lonely.

Isaac approached the front door, finding it unlocked. The moment Isaac entered the old house he realized that someone had been here since that destructive night. A strange primal rage left his hands balled into fists. Someone else had broken into his home.

The kitchen window was shattered. Furniture had been toppled, plates had been pulled from the cabinets and thrown and smashed against the far wall. Spray painted on the basement door were the words, in choppy red lettering, ‘freak show inside’. Isaac bristled with anger. Some stupid teenager smoking cigarettes - because yes, he could still faintly smell the smoke - had invaded his history and destroyed what wasn’t his to destroy. Mocked something he could never understand.

They must have stopped at the first floor and the basement, as the second floor seemed untouched. Isaac avoided his father’s room, skipping the creaky floorboard in front of the door out of habit, before entering his own room.

Isaac sat on his own bed and the old scent of fear and exhaustion and dirt seemed to linger in the sheets. He could almost miss it now. Almost. Isaac, without any distinct thought in his actions, opened the bag he had brought with him as well as the bottom drawer of his dresser. There, at the back under jeans that were probably now too small for him, Isaac removed photos carefully hidden underneath the drawer liner. The ultimate contraband from his old life. Family photos.

It took Isaac ten minutes of rustling around his room and placing old photos and favorite sweatshirts in his bag for him to realize what he was doing.  
Isaac was packing.

Upon realizing this, he stopped, standing slightly hunched over and very lost in the middle of his room, his brother’s swim team jacket in hand. What the hell was he doing?

Yet despite his mind questioning this behavior, it felt right. It felt like motion. Isaac stuffed the jacket into his bag, tore his father’s face from the last of the family photos, and headed for the door. Isaac wished he hadn’t looked back, but how could he not? When everything in his mind and soul said god, this was the last time. Never again. The house didn’t look like anything familiar anymore.

Waiting outside was, of course, Scott.

“Had a feeling you’d be here,” he mumbled.

“I… I don’t think I’m ready to go back,” Isaac struggled with the word ‘home’ once again. He had just gotten used to calling the McCall’s just that.

“We don’t have to, Ise,” Scott said a little bitterly. “But we’re the only ones in the world who knew what it was like to love her like that.”

It was the first mention of her in days. It felt like a blunt force to the chest but also like a relief. Isaac had held his breath enough for a lifetime. Isaac broke down. He collapsed onto the curb, head buried in his hands, letting out gasping, choking sobs that sounded just as much like dying as it did like grief.

Scott’s bike grew silent as Scott sat next to his friend, head leaning on his shoulder as his own silent tears continued to rain. How either of them had any left to shed was a mystery.

“What’re you doing here, Isaac?” Scott asked quietly once their pain settled a little easier in their chests.

Isaac didn’t know what to say, so he merely opened his bag. Scott took in the carefully folded photographs and the old clothes with understanding, not pity.

“It’s okay to remember things, I guess,” Scott said. “It doesn’t feel like that now, though.”

Scott didn’t seemed to register what Isaac had. These items were not meant to rest in the McCall house. Isaac felt that perhaps, neither was he. Scott was right. They were the only ones who knew what it was like to love her. In their specific way. Lydia and Stiles had loved her too, perhaps just as much, but differently.

“I… I think we need to talk about her,” Scott said slowly. “But I don’t know how.”

“Yeah, well. Neither do I,” Isaac muttered. “Scott… I…”

“You can talk to me, Isaac,” Scott insisted. It was strange. Scott was in no fit state to be strong or play the therapist, but it was like he needed this. To take care of his pack in some way and have control.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Isaac managed to speak. Despite how painful he knew what would come next would be, he felt all the more convinced that he had to do this.

“It’s okay. We have time. Mom says we need to process first,” Scott said gently. Isaac was visibly pained now.

“We don’t have time, Scott,” Isaac sounded strained. “I… I can’t stay here!” Isaac stood from the curb, his hands balled into fists, hating the pain he had to cause to get away from his own.

“Isaac, please,” Scott stood to join him. “What do you mean? You… what’re you doing?”

“I… I don’t know. But I can’t breathe in this town, Scott. Everything here-it-it it just screams her. How am I supposed to live with that? How can I get better when everything here just hurts?!”

“Isaac, please… where will you go?” Scott pleaded with him.

Isaac knew. Because the path he had to follow had weighed him down for days. “I have to see through to the end of this. I gotta make sure this thing can’t hurt anyone else.”

“You’re…?”

“I’m going with Argent. If he wants me or not. Once I get to France… I don’t know,” Isaac said insistently. He needed a plan. He needed stability.

“Isaac, you can’t just be alone-”

“Don’t you understand?!” Isaac couldn’t help but shout. “You can’t just save me, Scott! Not here. I… I don’t think I can survive this town any longer. If you weren’t…you… you’d get out too. I can’t watch anyone else die.”

“What if I need you?”

Isaac scoffed, “you don’t need me. You have friends, family…. a pack,” Isaac’s mouth felt very dry. “This isn’t easy for me, you know.”

“But you still think you’re doing it,” Scott said.

“I am doing this,” he said. “I… I’m terrified of leaving because you’re all I have but I can’t imagine staying either.”

“Isaac?” Scott’s voice trembled and Isaac feared he was going to bring up Allison again. Scott threw his arms around Isaac, holding onto him tightly as if afraid to let go. “I’m… I’m gonna miss you.”

“Thank you,” Isaac held onto his shorter friend, feeling almost weak with relief. He wouldn’t have been able to go through with it without Scott’s support. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

“I might be able to live with this, but just wait until we tell mom,” Scott laughed weakly.

“But.... how are you gonna be okay, Scott? How are any of us gonna be?” Isaac asked. How did Scott not feel the suffocating weight of this place?

“Like you said. I have them,” Scott said. “But who’s gonna look out for you, Ise?”

“I’m not leaving yet. Could you… could you go with me to Al- to Argent’s?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah. But after that, we should check in on the others. Lydia… and Stiles thinks it’s his fault…” Scott drifted off.

“They’ll be okay. They have you,” Isaac pointed out.

“You have me too, Isaac. If you want me,” Scott said.

“Isaac, Scott,” Argent seemed surprised when he answered the door. “I assume you’re here to drop off the Nogitsune early…?”

“No,” Isaac said firmly. “I… I need to go with you.” Isaac forced himself to demand it, refusing to take no for an answer.

“The funeral is here, Isaac. You don’t need to follow me to france,” Argent said somewhat coldly.

“The funeral- that isn’t what this is about!” Isaac blustered. “Where her body goes doesn’t matter to me,” he said heatedly. “It’s-It’s making sure the thing responsible gets locked up! It’s getting the hell away from here!”

“Isaac, if… even if I were to allow this,” Argent spoke slowly. “Do you know where I’m going? I’m going to the home of the original Argents. The main branch of our hunters, if they even let you in the door, do you really expect them not to kill you.”

Isaac called his bluff. “Gerard was the psychopath. You and the rest of your family, you’re better. I know you are. She knew it too,” Isaac pressed. “Gerard and his men in Canada, they’re not what Argents are.”

“Isaac… why do you want to leave this? You have people here,” Argent asked quietly and Isaac realized with a jolt that Chris was more alone than he was.

“I’m coming with you,” Isaac’s voice broke off. He would not cry again. Not now.

“And you’re okay with this? Aren’t you his alpha?” Argent turned to Scott for aid.

Scott shrugged hopelessly. “How can I stop him?”

Argent frowned and Isaac could tell from the resignation in his eyes that Isaac had won. “You… you’ll have to do what I say. If Valarie let’s you…”

Isaac nodded.

“So… you’re really going,” Scott said weakly. He had apparently hoped Argent could hold Isaac back.

“Can we… can we go home first? I’m not leaving today,” Isaac said. The word ‘home’ came forward for Scott’s benefit as much as his.

“Friday. If you’re going, we leave friday,” Argent said quietly. Three days.

“No. Nope. Out of the question,” Melissa had not taken it as well when they returned to the house. “I am not letting you leave the country with a- with a- a stranger!”

“Ms. McCall, you know that isn’t true,” Isaac grew sheepish under her worry.

“Please, Isaac. You can’t be alone and go through this. We’ve already lost so much,” Isaac was shocked to see Melissa was crying. She held him tightly before murmuring, “you gotta take care of yourself, honey.”

“So, you’re letting me?” Isaac asked, surprised.

“On one condition,” Melissa said fiercely. “I… I can’t make good judgement on whether or not this is good for you. You need to see Dr. Gallagher before you go, alright?”

“Alright,” Isaac felt himself grow weepy as she gently brushed his hair back. “I-I’m gonna miss you both.”

“We’ll still be here,” Melissa said. “You… you need to pack. What’s the weather even like in France?” Melissa gasped. “They’re hunters. You’re going to be staying with hunters, Isaac! God, what are you thinking?!”

“Don’t worry, Ms. McCall, they’re the good kind,” he forced some humor into his tone but really, he wasn’t sure if he’d care if they had been like Gerard’s clan.

“I just wish I could take your pain away. For both of you,” Melissa looked at her sons with all the anguish they couldn’t bring themselves to articulate.


	40. Chapter 40

“Isaac, I am sorry for your loss, but I’m sure you’ve heard that too many times to believe it,” Dr. Gallagher did not have notes out, she sat up, leaned forward, a strange and tender focus that seemed almost unlike her.

“You were right,” Isaac was tired of talking about loss. “Well, half right.”

“How so?” She asked.

“When everything goes to hell, I can just up and leave. And that’s what I have to do,” Isaac said firmly. “But… we both seemed to think that I wouldn’t lose anyone else,” Isaac finished bitterly.

“I won’t lie to you and try and say something like ‘it’ll get better’, not only because you wouldn’t believe me, but because someone who’s suffering doesn’t need to hear that shit. It doesn’t feel better, does it?” Gallagher spoke honestly. As always, Isaac was grateful.

“No. It doesn’t,” he said hoarsely.

“You are going to France then? With Mr. Argent?” She pushed onwards.

“I am,” Isaac pushed onwards as well. “Friday.”

“That doesn’t leave me much time to prepare,” she said.

“You? What do you mean?” Isaac asked bewilderedly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not following you to france, but what kind of therapist would I be, letting you go after such a loss without support?” Dr. Gallagher said. “You’re lucky, Isaac. Very lucky.”

“Am I?” He said coldly.

“Okay, maybe not at the moment,” Dr. Gallagher fished out a sheet of paper with contact information. In french and english. “I happen to know an ex emissary with a degree in psychology who moved to Paris last year.”

“Spoken with Deaton, have you?”

“Maybe,” Gallagher spoke teasingly, as if somehow she knew he needed nothing more than some casual behavior after being surrounded by nothing but the grieving.

“His name is Doctor Bhatt. Not only did he spend a year interning with a grief counselor, but his masters came from helping abuse victims,” she handed him the sheet of paper. “Now that you have his information, let’s talk about you.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve always done?” Isaac sighed.

“Fine, better for you to isolate after one of the most traumatic events in your very weighted life,” Dr. Gallagher said dryly.

“I’ll miss that wit,” Isaac said sardonically.

“Isaac, please talk to me,” Dr. Gallagher grew serious again. “Don’t pretend like you’re fine, because you’re not fine. You’re suffering. You’re trying to flee the pain you’re in without bothering to ask if you can survive it.”

“I just… I know I can’t stay here,” Isaac started slowly. “I can’t. But… it hurts so badly to leave them,” a lump formed in his throat at these words.

“What makes you so sure? So sure that you have to leave?” He said nothing for a time. “I need to know why you’re doing this, Isaac. To make sure it’s for the right reasons.”

“You know how in hospitals, you can feel the sickness in the air? Even before I got bit, it was like I could smell it,” Isaac spoke carefully. “The way your stomach just turns over because you know the sterilizer is just covering up the smell of people dying.” Isaac paused, chewing his lip, hands fiddling constantly in his lap. “This whole town reeks of it.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“With the nemeton drawing shit here, who knows,” Isaac sighed. “I don’t know if anyone else will die, but what I do know is that I’ll never get away from that smell, of all this dying, if I stay here.” Isaac stopped, feeling breath caught in his lungs. “I… I can’t get better here.”

“I think this is right for you, Isaac,” Dr. Gallagher said. “I was afraid you were just trying to run away from this. Doing that can be dangerous, but I think you looked inside yourself and knew that you can’t be happy here. Not now at least. And if France is your ticket out, I fully support it.”

“So I have the all clear, then?” Isaac was eager to leave. Grief got worse the closer to the surface it was pulled.

“In a manner of speaking,” Dr. Gallagher stood with him. “But Isaac-”

Isaac stopped from leaving, turning to face her with some understanding of the bond he was leaving behind.

“Don’t lose what you had here along the way,” she said carefully.

It was harder than Isaac had initially thought to say goodbye to the rest of them.

“Going to the Argent’s hometown,” Stiles said. “Do you have a death wish now or something?”

“If I did, I’d just stay here,” Isaac hated the truth in his words.

“You chose a shit time to leave, Isaac,” Lydia told him. She looked as steady and stone faced as ever. Isaac knew the Lydia that existed under the ‘perfect-girl’ facade.

“I’m surprised you haven’t decided to run to London after Jackson,” Isaac quipped back. This conversation, it felt unnatural now. The casual banter was the best they had. Unable to articulate that they would miss each other.

“You and I both know these two couldn’t survive without me,” she nodded to Scott and Stiles.

“Isaac… how’re you gonna be okay?” Stiles suddenly sounded sincere. Isaac, surprised, turned to face him, sitting on the McCall’s couch with crossed arms. “I mean, you’re such a fucked up asshole, I don’t know how you’re gonna make it on your own,” Stiles shook away his sincerity for their usual insults.

“Aw, you gonna miss me, Stiles?” Isaac teased, but he was touched.

“Yeah, you and the Nogitsune,” Stiles rubbed his eyes quickly. “It’s dusty in here,” he muttered in his defense.

“You better not make a fool of yourself in front of all those fancy french hunters,” Lydia said and, after a moment’s hesitation, she hugged him.

Isaac paused, arms still open, taken aback by that kind of affection from her. Scott joined the fray, burying his head in his friend’s shoulder, before his muffled words of “Stiles, get over here” drew the final member of their little group into the folds. Isaac felt better and worse about leaving.

Argent was burying her. Isaac understood, technically. She would be buried next to her mother and her aunt. But working in a graveyard had warped his perception. Burying them didn’t feel like peace anymore. It felt like trying to get rid of them.

It was sunny. Of course it was. Some older man he had never met had taken over the duties he and his father had left behind. The grave, as per the rules of respect, had been cleanly dug the night before. The school was holding a candle lit memorial friday. Isaac wouldn’t have gone if he’d stayed anyways. The principal’s speech had talked about the dangers of crime and the importance of protecting our young people on the announcements. Stiles had heard this from Danny. None of them had returned to school. Isaac never would.

Argent had let Isaac keep the suit. Scott had his own. The black jacket was the same one he had gotten for prom.

They stood quietly in a row, Stiles fidgeting occasionally.

A preacher spoke of resilience. It was one Isaac was familiar with - he tended all the funerals without their own speakers - and felt a little sick. Argent had had no church to contact of his own. Isaac knew he only allowed the man to speak as another show of their normalcy. It was for the same reason they had a funeral at all. So no one in Beacon Hills went poking their head in things.

Lydia’s lip quivered, but she did not shed a tear. Scott wept openly while Stiles tried to stifle his tears. Isaac had nothing left to give. Especially here.  
Graveyards meant nothing to him.

Isaac felt his hands ball into fists as her casket was lowered into the ground. She deserved better than to be buried. Isaac reminded himself of the truth he had learned from his hours in the graveyard: she was not her body. There was nothing left of her there now. It had been drained away by heavy makeup and formaldehyde. The only mercy was it was not an open casket.

“Doesn’t feel right,” Stiles mumbled as they walked in near silence to the funeral home where the pitying members of Beacon Hills had brought food and people would talk about a girl they never really knew in hushed tones.

“What?” Scott asked.

“Burying her,” Isaac agreed with Stiles. “It feels wrong.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Lydia was already heading for her car, the boys following her. They needed someone to follow.

“Isn’t it… rude to leave a funeral?” Scott asked quietly as he sat beside Stiles in the back seat, Isaac claiming the front.

“Do you really care?” Isaac said. “Who’s there to be offended? Argent?”

Scott shrugged indifferently.

“Where are we going, Lydia?” Stiles asked, forehead pressed against the window.

“Somewhere away from all this pity and bullshit,” Lydia muttered.

“You taking us over a cliff, Lydia?” Isaac asked.

“You’ll never make it to France,” she teased back. 

Silence returned with tension as they all became lost in their own gloomy thoughts of the cruelty in the past week. Lydia took her beautiful car onto the dirt road leaving to the entrance to the preserve. Lydia was out of the car before they had even registered she’d stopped. She stomped over the dry, california dirt in her little black heels and crossed her arms.

“You okay, Lyd?” Stiles asked cautiously.

“That thing took her away from me,” Lydia’s voice trembled but she sounded more angry than defeated. Very Lydia. “I wish there was something I could do to get back at him. He spent hours taunting me in those creepy hallways under the compound but I held out because I knew you guys were coming.” She sighed, running her hands through her wavy red hair.

“Lydia…” Scott tried to say something, to comfort her after her ordeal.

“He terrified me but I didn’t care. What could he do to me?” She scoffed. “But then… god, I felt it. I felt her dying before it even happened. I was too late to save her. What’s the point of being me if I can’t help anybody?!” Lydia’s anger suddenly melted away and she fell to her knees, holding herself as her dress was coated in dust. She cried quietly, still trying to stay strong. “She was my best friend.”

Stiles knelt down beside her, wrapping his arm around her. “I’m so sorry, Lydia. I’m so sorry…” The way Stiles pleaded through his own sobs made Isaac realize that on some level, Stiles still blamed himself for her death.

Scott seemed at a loss for how to help his friends, he stood behind them, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and staring out at the trees with nothing behind his eyes but uncertainty.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was none of you who caused this,” Isaac said quietly, he stood on Lydia’s other side, staring down at the undergrowth with exhaustion. “You aren’t the nogitsune,” he told Stiles. “And just because you felt it doesn’t mean you could’ve stopped it,” he said to Lydia.

“It wasn’t your fault either, Ise,” Scott told him.

Isaac shrugged dismissively. “I don’t think fault matters right now. It just hurts.”

“God, if she could see us now,” Lydia stood, her moment of ‘weakness’ over. “Collapsed and crying in the woods…” She brushed the dirt off of her dress and pulled Stiles to his feet.

“She’d do the same. She was strong because she felt human too,” Scott said.

Isaac was ready to leave. It was Friday morning and their flight was at eleven. Isaac had his meager belongings packet. He was also not ready to leave at all.

“You… you got your pictures?” Melissa said, for some reason finding the need to fix Isaac’s hair and adjust his bag. Isaac nodded. “Good… good. Passport? All your clothes?”

“I got everything, Ms. McCall,” Isaac said softly.

With a shaky inhale, she pulled him tightly into a hug. “You take care of yourself, Isaac, alright?”

“Alright,” Isaac said, his voice breaking slightly. “Thank you, Ms. McCall. Thank you so much, for everything.”

Melissa pulled away, stroking his hair more out of fondness than worry, “of course, Isaac. We’re family.”

Isaac pulled her close into a hug again, wishing that somehow in the way he held her she would know how much that meant to him.

“You ready to go, bud?” Scott asked, he seemed hesitant.

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded and the headed outside. Just as the jeep pulled up, Lydia and Stiles inside.

“You were gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Stiles called, climbing out of the front seat awkwardly.

“So you are gonna miss me!” Isaac said.

Stiles looked about to retort with a sarcastic comment but he stopped. “Yeah, I guess I am,” Stiles shrugged.

“Shit, you must be serious,” Isaac said.

“For once,” Lydia said. She hugged Isaac unwaveringly, taking Isaac by surprise as always. “Thanks for not killing me last year.”

“Thanks for not being a homicidal lizard,” Isaac grinned.

“We got you something,” Stiles said, shoving a fancy looking gift bag with the French flag colors adorning it into his hands.

Lydia buried her face in her hands, “I take no credit for the contents, just the bag.”

“God, Stiles. Didn’t you want us to leave on good terms?” Isaac said. He was almost in awe of how disgusting it was.

A grey shirt with blue font reading “I’m fluent in French” Which wouldn’t be all that bad if not for the word in curvy lettering in parentheses beneath it: (fries).

“Just a little memento to remember me by,” Stiles said. He stepped forward, looking torn between an awkward handshake and an awkward hug. Isaac felt equally unsure.

“This is pathetic,” Lydia said before forcing the two of them together with her own hug, Scott joining almost eagerly.

Stiles patted Isaac on the back before pulling away, “make us Americans proud, alright?”

“No promises,” Isaac said. Lydia and Stiles moved to leave and Isaac stared after them with a fondness that a year ago he could have never imagined.

“Come on,” Scott sighed. “Don’t want to be late. Do you still have… it?”

Isaac’s hand immediately went to the triskele box. It had still never left his side.

Scott opened his mouth to say something before closing it again with an unsteady nod.

Argent’s apartment was not empty, but it did feel hollow. He did not need to take furniture, as he would be staying at the family home. Isaac only had a small duffle bag and a backpack with all of his belongings.

“Have everything?” Argent asked him. Isaac nodded. “Scott, good of you to take him.”

“I needed to say goodbye,” Scott said firmly.

“Well, go ahead. We need to leave in a few minutes,” Argent said. “Already running behind.”

“So… guess this is it?” Isaac said.

“This is it,” Scott opened his mouth to speak further and Isaac prepared for a loving and inspiring speech, Scott instead shook his head and pulled Isaac into a hug. “You already know how much I love you,” he said softly.

Isaac hugged back, deeply breathing in the last scent of the McCalls he would have. “Thanks for giving me a family,” Isaac whispered.

Scott pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Can I… can I see it?” He stared down the hall to Allison’s door.

Argent nodded.

Scott moved, almost trancelike, to the untouched bedroom. His hand brushed against her desk almost like Isaac’s had the day before. He inhaled heavily.

“Take care of them,” Isaac said. “It’s what she would’ve wanted.” That he was sure of.

Scott turned to leave, pausing to pull Isaac into one last hug, “I better see you again, Ise. Even if I have to abandon Beacon Hills to do it.”

“They need you here,” Isaac said firmly. “I’ll… I’ll be around,” he wasn’t sure if he even believed it.

“You’ll always have a home here,” Scott held onto his friend’s shoulder’s gazing into his eyes with nothing but compassion. No resentment. “And a pack.”

Isaac stood there, a little lost, as Scott turned and left. He looked back before getting in the elevator. Scott was always one to look back.

“Do you have it?” Argent shook him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Isaac pulled the box from his bag, his conviction returning. They would lock it up for good.

Argent seemed to want to console Isaac, he patted his back briefly and they both glanced back at the abandoned room where Allison would never return. Still, they pushed onwards. Heading for the door and for a flight away from Beacon Hills and everything Isaac had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the end of book one! I wanted them to grieve together, but also talk and act like kids too. If it was all bad at the end, what's the point?  
> And this isn't really the end. Isaac is going to go to france and, hopefully, will continue to grow and recover! Maybe enough to come back home eventually...
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and I hope, if you're interested, you'll join me for book two- Dans lequel Isaac Lahey obtient finalement un peu de putain de thérapie! I'm sure you can guess what that translates to.  
> I hope you all enjoyed Isaac getting a little therapy!


End file.
